


Like Fonsi Says, Let's Take It Slow

by waroftheposes



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Light Angst, M/M, POV Multiple, Ten Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23455276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waroftheposes/pseuds/waroftheposes
Summary: Guzman wants to give his family a relaxing vacation.Yusef wants his children to be happy.Iman just wants her son’s husband to stop looking like a frightened rabbit, and maybe put some weight on.Nobody particularly wants to go to an opera festival. Yet somehow, in a quiet town in Italy, the Shanaa-Muñoz-Nunier family finds exactly what it needs.
Relationships: Ander Muñoz/Omar Shana, Background Guzman/Nadia
Comments: 37
Kudos: 234





	Like Fonsi Says, Let's Take It Slow

**Author's Note:**

> _Y como dice Fonsi, vamo’ a darle despacito_  
>  \--  
> Thank you to my Beta who read this, found a thousand issues, and then helped me fix every single one of them. You’re a true hero my dude I don't know what I would do without you.  
> \--  
> The four tumblr prompts:
> 
> _Prompt #1: Ohh u taking prompts! If u feel like it Id like some happy carefree omander maybe on vacation idk but something where they can enjoy themselves for once, of course a little bit of drama never hurts  
>  Prompt #2: could you do a omander fic post s3 where ander is ill/collapses or something (he’s not diagnosed again or anything, it’s just a scare) and they think he might be sick again  
> Prompt #3: maybe a fic about omar’s family and omar having dinner with ander and his mother (after s3)  
> Prompt #4: Omg you should do a fic with a 5 year jump where omar and ander have dinner with omars parents and Guzman and Nadia and then the lost sister comes in and stirs up some drama for omar!_

**Guzman**

Guzman has the idea for a family vacation in January, when it’s cold and gloomy and he’s pretty sure some form of seasonal affective disorder is disturbing everyone around him.

He brings it up one night while hanging out with Nadia, Omar and Ander, after they’ve watched a movie. “We should all go on vacation.”

Three pairs of eyes look toward him with surprise. A moment passes and Nadia’s gaze becomes obliging while Ander and Omar continue looking at Guzman as if he’d said something sensational.

“Right now?” Ander asks.

Guzman shakes his head at such a ridiculous question. “No, not right now, we can’t get time off work, Ander.” He pauses to emphasize how ridiculous Ander’s question had really been. “I’m saying we go in the summer.”

Omar seems a bit more open to the idea after this statement. He sits back, glance leaving Guzman, legs crossed, eyes unfocused. Guzman is glad that he’s at least considering the proposal.

Nadia looks away as well, presumably also in consideration. When Guzman’s gaze finds Ander, Ander shrugs at him.

“I’m down,” he says. “Can we get out of Spain?”

Nadia is nodding next to him. Guzman feels a sense of victory at having convinced two out of the three people in his living room.

“Can we go somewhere without too many tourists?” Nadia asks.

“Or too many people in general,” Ander adds.

“So,” Guzman says, looking toward Omar, wondering what he’s thinking. “If we go on a vacation, we want to leave Spain and go somewhere remote? Out of the way?”

Omar looks at Ander and Nadia while they nod, then turns to Guzman. “It needs to be warm too.”

That signifies his consent to Guzman. “So we’re doing this?” He asks, smiling hopefully.

“Hell yeah, man,” Ander responds. “Let’s do it.”

At Nadia’s question about how they’ll divide the planning, Guzman says that he will do the initial research. “It was my idea,” he says when Omar and Ander look like they’re about to complain. “I’ll do the grunt work.”

Guzman begins doing research the next day and immediately runs into problems. The world is such a big place that googling “hot, non touristy places” really doesn’t narrow down Guzman’s search. After days of looking at South Asia and Australia, Guzman decides that it will be a lot easier on him to try and find a place in Europe.

Spain is out, he knows. His second option is Greece, but Greece is overrun by tourists in the summer. Guzman doesn’t even look at Northern Europe. He knows how much it rains in England during the summer. 

Hesitantly, and after an exhaustive look into other Southern European countries, Guzman begins researching places in Italy. He figures Italy is different enough from Spain that it will be novel for everyone, but not too different that it will feel foreign and unfamiliar. Guzman knows they can’t go anywhere in Tuscany or Lazio if they want to avoid crowds. The last time he was in Rome, he could barely walk thanks to the thick crowd of tourists.

But Guzman also knows that there are small places in Italy where tourists rarely go. One night, he stumbles upon a festival that’s held in the city of Spoleto every summer. It’s called Festival _dei Due Mondi_ and it showcases opera music. Although the festival means that there will be more people in Spoleto than normal, Guzman thinks that it’s not like those people are tourists, and anyways, how big can an opera festival really be?

The next day, he calls Ander to ask him what he thinks. “You’re the only one who didn’t want crowds,” Guzman says, “but this is an opera festival, it’s not like it will get crazy.”

Ander hesitates. Guzman can hear him breathing on the other end of the line, then take a deep breath. “I’ll go, it’s fine.”

Guzman begins looking for villas to rent in Spoleto and makes a summer vacation group chat.

A few weeks after he begins his search, Guzman has picked out a few villas in the Spoleto area and has sent every single one to the other three. The others are very unhelpful in the villa selection, commenting on each house in the group chat but saying nothing concrete. Guzman thinks that they’re probably reluctant to commit to a place without really seeing it. However, he needs real answers and the other three need to give him those answers before he can book a place and buy plane tickets.

After a whole week of “this one seems nice to me, but I really don’t care,” and “Guzman, really, just pick one and everyone else will be fine,” Guzman calls a meeting. It is an official meeting--he sets a day (the upcoming Saturday), time (5:00 PM) and place (Guzman’s living room) and makes everyone, even Nadia, RSVP--where Guzman plans to narrow down the villa choices and maybe actually pick one. However, the night before their scheduled meeting, something else comes up that gives Guzman second thoughts.

At their biweekly dinner with the Shanaas, he hears Yusef say, offhandedly, that his and Iman’s wedding anniversary is in July.

That night, while trying to sleep, Guzman comes up with a new vacation plan.

“What if,” Guzman says to Nadia the next morning, “we take your parents with us on vacation.”

Nadia likes the idea. Omar and Ander, when Guzman tells them in the group chat, reply that they like the idea as well. Guzman postpones the official villa selection meeting until after Yusef and Iman have been invited. He and Nadia go to her parents’ house that evening, but they’re barely through the store door when they are overtaken by Iman.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Iman tells Nadia. “I need help shelving and your father has exhausted himself already. He’s upstairs, napping.”

When her mother’s back is to them, Nadia turns to Guzman. “Let’s wait to tell them about the vacation when dad is awake,” she whispers.

“You’re right,” he says to Nadia. “We’ll tell them after she’s done with this, if your dad wakes up from his nap.” Then getting Iman’s attention, Guzman offers to help. 

Iman waves him off, saying that he’d be more of a detriment if he tries to help. Which, ok, rude, but Guzman doesn’t take it personally. He knows that Nadia’s mother likes him as a son-in-law, and shows this by teasing him.

Instead of “getting in the way,” as Iman had so kindly put it, Guzman walks around, trying to think of what he’d cook for dinner. He thinks he might make something light with leeks and mushrooms, and is mentally going through recipes he knows when he’s distracted by Nadia and her mother talking loudly in another aisle. Their contending voices draw Guzman’s attention, and as he approaches them, he hears Nadia’s mother say, “What’s the point of a day off if you and your brother aren’t with us?”

Standing in the aisle by the peas in the Shanaa store and listening to Nadia try to convince her mother that a day off is a day off, she should take one once in a while and enjoy herself, Guzman comes up with yet another plan for their vacation.

When Nadia and her mother are done shelving products and Nadia returns to him, Guzman tells her that he wants to postpone telling her parents about the vacation.

“Let’s go home,” he tells Nadia.

She shrugs, looking concerned at his vagueness, but she trusts him enough to go along with it. She says her goodbye to her mother and leaves with him.

Guzman is so excited by his own idea that he texts Omar and Ander and demands that they come over to his and Nadia’s for an emergency vacation meeting. However, a few hours later, when he presents the idea to Nadia, Omar and Ander, they’re not very receptive.

“You want us to trick our parents into thinking they’re going on vacation _alone_ , then surprise them by showing up at their doorstep the next day?” Omar’s tone is so incredulous, like he can’t even fathom how Guzman came up with such a dumb idea, that Guzman is a little offended. “Why?” Ander asks.

“Because it will make them happy?” Guzman turns to Nadia for support. “Didn’t your mom tell you earlier today that she doesn’t want time off if she can’t enjoy it with you and Omar? Imagine how excited she’ll be if the two of you show up unannounced at a vacation she thinks she and your dad are taking alone.”

Nadia must see Guzman’s point, because after thinking for a few moments, she nods in agreement. She turns Omar. “Mom did tell me today, while we were talking about her and dad taking a break, that she doesn’t want a break if we’re not included in it.”

“Ok,” Omar says, leaning back in his chair. “So we’re lying to them to surprise them. But if this is true and they only wanna go on vacation with us, then how do we get them to agree to go to Italy without us in the first place?”

“Uh….” Guzman hadn’t thought about this. He turns to Ander and Nadia for help.

Nadia doesn’t have a response to this question, at least not a good one. She thinks they should just tell her parents that it’s supposed to be a couple’s getaway, but Omar points out that their parents will not go just because he and Nadia want them to. They’d rather work than take a vacation, Omar continues, and Guzman is very annoyed that he has a point.

“Nadia,” Omar says, turning to her. “How many times since the two of us have been _alive_ , have mom and dad actually closed the store?”

Nadia begins counting on her fingers. 

As Nadia’s face falls, Guzman drops his head into his palms. He sighs, closing his eyes and trying to force his goddamn brain to come up with something useful. He just wants to do something nice for his best friend, his wife and her family, but apparently planning a vacation with the Shanaa family is a lot more complicated than Guzman had anticipated.

“Hey,” Ander says softly next to his ear, while Nadia and Omar continue discussing the likelihood of their parents closing the store for an extended period of time.

Guzman raises his head slightly to look at Ander.

“What if we tell them in a way that they can’t refuse,” he says this to Guzman, but Omar and Nadia definitely hear him, because they stop their conversation and look toward Ander.

“How do you suppose we do that?” Guzman asks.

“Buy everything, give them their tickets, then tell them it’s nonrefundable,” Ander says. “I’m sure Nadia and Omar’s parents won’t want to waste our money.”

This is actually so simple, that Guzman is surprised he didn’t come up with the idea himself. “That might work.”

Nadia and Omar exchange a glance. Guzman watches as they communicate non-verbally and come to an agreement.

“It will work,” Omar says.

“My parents will definitely not want to waste our money,” Nadia adds.

Guzman looks over just in time to see Ander smiling, wide and slightly sheepish, proud of himself.

“So we’re guilting them?” Guzman asks the room.

“Imagine how hard it would be for them to choose not to go on vacation,” Nadia answers. “When they factor in that their hardworking twenty-eight-year-old children paid for it with their own money. They won’t want our work to have gone to waste.”

Omar is nodding. “They’re pragmatic, so guilting them is a great idea. We can add to their guilt by saying how much it means to us,” he gestures between himself and Nadia, “that they go on this vacation.”

Inspired, Guzman adds, “You can point out how hard they’ve been working… How everyone deserves a break.”

As the plan begins to form, Nadia smiles up at Guzman. Hopeful and a little giddy, Guzman can’t help but smile back.

Neither he nor Nadia are smiling when they hand over a copy of the plane tickets to Nadia’s parents.

The next hour is… difficult.

Yusef and Iman are quiet when they’re presented with their tickets and informed what the tickets are for. They look over the tickets, faces unmoving, then at each other. When they finally look over at Nadia and Omar, Guzman thinks that it would be better for everyone involved if he removed himself and Ander from the situation. As gently and as quietly as he can, Guzman takes a hold of Ander’s wrist and pulls him back toward the apartment’s exit. He sees Yusef take a deep breath and prepare himself for speaking. Guzman notices that his father-in-law is not looking at Nadia and Omar, but at the ground.

“What are you doing?” Ander says in Guzman’s ear as they get closer to the door.

“I don’t want us caught in the crossfire.” Guzman continues pulling on Ander’s wrist.

“You want your spouse caught in it though?”

Ignoring Ander’s protests, Guzman continues dragging him by the arm. By the time Yusef has actually started speaking, the two of them are by the stairs that lead to the store.

Guzman takes a seat by the stairs and motions Ander to do the same. At this angle, they can’t see Yusef talking to his children, but they can easily hear him.

“Who’s bright idea was this?” Yusef sounds, if not angry, then definitely tired. His voice is quiet and strained, and though it does carry all the way to the stairs, Guzman still has to lean forward to hear it.

There’s silence, Guzman looks over at Ander, who, catching his eyes, shrugs and turns his face back toward the room where they left Nadia and Omar.

The silence continues, then an audible, female sounding sigh.

“Kids… You are not in trouble.” Guzman hears Iman say. “How can you be in trouble? You’ve given us a gift.”

At these words, Guzman releases a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. From the moment he’d handed over the tickets to Yusef and Iman, until now, Guzman had been a little afraid that this action would lead to something drastic for Nadia and Omar, like disownment. Nadia tells Guzman often that she and her brother have built a strong relationship with their parents, but what if Guzman’s action ruins that relationship?

“We’re just not happy with this being a surprise,” Iman continues. “You should have asked us if this is what we wanted before you spent money on it.”

“You would have said no and we knew it. So we decided the best way to get you two to actually go was to spend the money before asking you.” Nadia’s voice is firm and decisive. Guzman feels a surge of affection for her, the kind that he feels whenever she takes control of a situation. “And if you don’t go, then our money and time and effort will be wasted. Look,” she pauses. “We should have told you before we bought the plane tickets and booked the villa, but let’s be honest, would you have gone?”

Silence. Then, “Who will watch over the store?”

“We will.” Omar says. He’s lying, of course. The store will be put in the hands of some very nice ladies Nadia’s mother had introduced to Nadia when they had gone to the mosque together. “I’ve taken a week off of work. Nadia has taken a week off of work as well. We’ll look over it during work hours and then we’ll close a bit earlier than normal.”

Guzman sees Ander biting his lip from the corner of his eye, and though it’s a small action, it draws Guzman’s attention. When he turns to look at Ander, he sees that Ander’s face is drawn together in concentration. He notices Guzman looking at him just as Guzman turns, and tilts his head slightly toward Guzman. “Do you think it’s working?”

Guzman nods slowly. “I do.” Ander is about to say something else but Yusef’s voice interrupts him.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Yusef is saying.

“We wanted to give you a gift, dad,” Omar says. “You guys deserve it.”

“And you don’t?” This is Iman. “Didn’t I tell you,” presumably talking to Nadia now, “that I would rather work than take time off without the two of you?”

“Yeah, mom,” Nadia says. “But if we had decided to come with, who would look after the store?”

Guzman thinks that Nadia’s parents have no answer to that because they're quiet again. As the silence continues, Ander gets Guzman’s attention by tapping him on the shoulder.

“Should we go back?”

Guzman shakes his head. He’s not sure whether the conversation between parents and children is over.

A moment later, he is proven right to hesitate. “So,” Yusef’s voice is irritated. “You two still haven’t told me who’s idea this was.”

“Does it matter?” Nadia asks.

“It was everyone’s idea,” Omar says at the same time.

“We all agreed to it,” Nadia continues. “So spread your anger evenly.”

“We’re not angry.” Yusef says, just like his wife did earlier. “We’re peeved.”

“We’re annoyed that you went behind our backs,” Iman adds.

“But of course,” Yusef sighs. Guzman can hear the hesitance in his voice this far away when he starts talking again. “We’re thankful as well, for this… gift. It was very thoughtful of you children. Even though you can’t come with us.”

Guzman notices Ander dropping his head at these words and turns to him once more.

“Hey,” he whispers to Ander. “Just one day and then the lie will be rectified.”

“Still makes me feel guilty,” Ander whispers back. “They’re clearly unhappy about this, not because it’s a vacation but because Nadia and Omar won’t be going with them.” 

Guzman puts a hand on Ander’s shoulder. He smiles when Ander slowly looks at him. He means the smile to be reassuring. “Imagine how happy they’ll be when Nadia and Omar show up unannounced.”

Ander hesitates, then very visibly rolls his eyes.

“Hey.”

Guzman is startled out of his conversation with Ander by Yusef’s voice. He looks up, Yusef is standing in the doorway. “I’m guessing this idea belongs to one of you?”

Ander is very decidingly looking at the ground.

Guzman resists the urge to roll his eyes at Ander’s cowardice and smiles up at Yusef. “Everyone needs a break now and then, no?”

He watches as Yusef’s eyes narrow. Then with a sigh, Yusef shakes his head and addresses Guzman and Ander.

“Stop hiding on the stairs and come back in, I think I’ve had enough of the vacation talk for one day.”

Guzman stands up, gesturing for Ander to do so as well. They follow Yusef back into the apartment and into the dining room, where Omar and Nadia are sitting with their mother. They all look up as Yusef, Guzman and Ander enter.

“So is that a yes, you’ll go?” Guzman asks Iman and Yusef.

Yusef sighs, shaking his head, looking from his children to Guzman. “ _Inshallah.”_ Then, with another shake of his head and something in Arabic to his wife, he walks back out of the apartment and into the store.

Guzman looks at Nadia’s mother after Yusef is gone. She’s sitting at the table looking at her hands. Guzman walks to stand behind Nadia as Nadia reaches out across the table and takes her mother’s hand.

“Mom, this is ok right? You’re not upset?”

Iman places a hand on top of Nadia’s and shakes her head, smiling. “Of course we’re not upset, dear.” She’s not looking at Nadia as she speaks, Guzman notices. “This is a very nice thing you’re doing. It’s just, parents are supposed to take care of their kids, and here you two are, not even thirty, taking care of me and your father.”

“Don’t say such things, mom,” Nadia responds. “You took care of us for a long time, now it’s our turn.”

Omar nods his head in agreement. “Take this as the fruit of your labors. You were great parents, we’ve turned into responsible adults. Now that we’ve made something of ourselves we’re repaying your hard work.”

“Let your kids treat you,” Ander pipes in. His voice is hesitant and Guzman is actually surprised that he said anything at all. Ander tries to speak as little as possible in front of Omar and Nadia’s parents. Guzman thinks he’s still feeling bad about being the man their son chose to marry.

Right now though, Guzman watches, a little amazed, as Ander makes his way to sit next to Iman. “You deserve it.”

Iman turns to him as he sits down, when he’s settled she puts her palm on his face. “Sweet boy,” she says, the corners of her lips slowly rising and her eyes crinkling with a smile. Guzman knows that Ander feels hesitant around Omar and Nadia’s parents, but he’s never understood _why_ the hesitance persists _._ As Iman pats Ander’s cheek, Guzman thinks that Iman shows Ander very openly that she cares about him. How does he not see it?

“If your father is not already convinced,” Iman says after a moment, dropping her hand from Ander’s cheek back to the table and turning to address her children once more, “then I’ll convince him tonight.”

Relieved, Guzman smiles. He has always wanted to do kind things for his own parental figures, but they don’t need him. Nadia’s parents on the other hand, are both the kind of parents that deserve a gift like this and the kind that rarely get it. They have sacrificed so much for their children, have led such a hard life for their sake, that it feels unbelievably amazing to give them something in return.

Guzman sees his own smile mirrored on Ander’s face. He places his hands on Nadia’s shoulder and Nadia looks up at him, smiling softly as well.

“Thank you for doing this,” Guzman says to Iman.

“No,” Iman smiles at all four of them. “Thank you.”

**Iman**

Iman wakes up right before dawn on a July morning not in her own bed. She’s confused for about a moment before she remembers that she’s on vacation with Yusef. She sighs, content, and reminds herself that she doesn’t need to get up and stock shelves in the store. It’s ok to fall back asleep.

Several hours later, as Yusef is making breakfast, she’s brewing tea, and both are complaining about how lavish this villa with seven bedrooms and a whole pool is for just the two of them, there’s a knock at the door.

Yusef looks at Iman in confusion and Iman returns the look.

“Are we expecting someone?” She asks Yusef.

Yusef shakes his head no. They have no more time to discuss this as there is another, louder knock on the door.

“Should I get that?” Iman asks.

“No, it’s better if I do.” Yusef puts down the knife with which he was cutting tomatoes and goes toward the front door of the villa, his brows knit together and his mouth set in a hard line.

Iman loses sight of him as he exits the kitchen, but she hears knocking one more time before her husband’s voice loudly proclaims, “I’m coming!” in Spanish.

Concerned for Yusef, Iman puts the kettle she had picked up down and hesitantly moves to the kitchen door to hear what is going on better.

After a few footsteps and the sound of the door opening, Iman hears her husband exhale. Then, “Bastards,” he laughs, and Iman can’t believe her ears.

“Surprise!”

Her heart in her throat, Iman leaves the kitchen to join her husband at the door.

Her children are standing on the threshold. Four sets of smiles greet her as she gazes out the door, stunned. When she finally finds her voice, the words that come to her mouth are not necessarily appropriate to utter out loud. She closes her mouth, sighs out and tries again. “How?”

The children, still smiling, shrug in sync, as if rehearsed.

Iman brings a hand to her mouth as she laughs out, surprised, relieved, _happy_. Nadia steps forward and wraps her mother in a hug with enough force to to push her back a few steps.

Iman clings to her daughter, closing her eyes. “How are you here?” she whispers into Nadia’s hair.

Nadia pulls back. “We wanted to surprise you.”

Iman laughs.

“We thought it would be much sweeter if you thought you came on vacation alone and then we showed up unannounced.”

Pulling back, Iman shakes her head in disbelief. Next to her, Yusef sighs.

“Can we move this into the villa please,” he says, motioning for the three boys on the threshold to come inside.

Iman and Nadia move out of the doorway as Guzman enters the villa carrying two suitcases, followed by Ander who smiles and waves at Yusef, and then Omar, who, dropping his own suitcase on the ground, hugs his father, then turns to his mother.

“Happy anniversary,” he says to her. Still holding onto Nadia’s arm, Iman leans forward to hug her son.

She’s not sure how long she stands there, hugging the two of them, but it’s long enough that Nadia gently removes herself from her mother’s embrace. As she feels Nadia leaving, Iman pulls back to look at Omar.

“Crazy children,” she says, still smiling.

Omar shrugs his shoulders, not disagreeing with her statement, then turns to his father. “Can we have a tour?”

“Leave the suitcases right here,” Yusef says and begins to lead the kids toward the kitchen. Iman turns to watch them go and means to follow them, but she stops when she sees Ander hesitating.

He turns his body towards Iman, waiting until the rest of the family is out of earshot, then looking quickly at Iman and looking away.

“What is it, child?” She asks. He’s always been so guarded around her and Yusef, has used so few words, has barely ever started a conversation in the decade that she’s known him. She wonders, not only right now, but in general, if he’s afraid of saying something wrong and making Iman hate him. If he ever brings it up, Iman means to assure him that he should be afraid of no such thing. Despite his introverted nature and the disastrous first meeting that she had had with him, Iman has grown fond of the boy, his hidden sweetness, and his ability to calm people down.

She watches Ander struggling to speak, opening his mouth once, then closing it and opening it again. He drops his head when nothing seems to come out.

Iman steps forward, putting both her hands on Ander’s shoulders. Ander slowly raises his head to look at her.

“Before we unpack and settle ourselves into your vacation,” Ander begins, “I just wanted to make sure that this was all ok with you?”

Iman opens her mouth to respond, but Ander, clearly a bit nervous, prattles on.

“I mean, I guess it’s too late at this point, but--” He takes a deep breath. “This is ok right? You’re not disappointed?”

Iman looks at him, confused. “Why would I be disappointed?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Ander answers. “Well it was supposed to be your anniversary getaway…” he trails off, eyes looking back down. “And now we’ve crashed. I know Nadia and Omar said that you guys wanted this but--”

Iman raises her hand to stop him from talking.

“Of course we wanted this,” she says to Ander. “Do you think your mother would be upset to have you and Omar go on vacation with her?”

Ander shakes his head.

“There you go then,” Iman smiles. She brings her palm to Ander’s face, mirroring the gesture she had done when he had chimed in to convince her to go on this vacation. He smiles at her, leaning into her palm. “I’m ecstatic that you guys--my children, _you_ , and Guzman--are here.”

She leans forwards and hugs him, something she hasn’t done in a long time. Iman has a tendency to hug Nadia and Omar often, but she doesn’t often feel the need to hug their husbands. Right now, however, she wants to hold this boy in her arms and make sure he knows that he is loved.

When she pulls back, he looks relaxed. “So you’re good?”

Iman looks at him, her gaze withering but fond. “What do you think?”

Ander looks down, then back up at Iman through his lashes. The gesture reminds her of a toddler, and Iman is filled with even more fondness.

“I think you’re ok,” he says.

Iman chuckles at him, resisting the urge to ruffle his head as if he were a child. “Shall we join the others?”

Ander nods.

As they head back toward the kitchen, Iman has to wrestle with the horrifying thought that she has hugged all the children this morning except Guzman.

Should she hug him now? If the four of them talk later, will he feel left out?

Iman is unsure what to do, but thankfully, Yusef has finished showing the kitchen to Nadia, Omar and Guzman and is coming out of the kitchen as Iman and Ander approach it.

“What were you two doing for so long?” Yusef asks, looking at Iman.

“Some foolish thoughts held us up,” Iman says, smiling at Ander.

Ander returns her smile and drops his head with the same sheepish gesture as before.

“No matter,” Iman turns her attention back to her husband. “It’s resolved.”

“A common occurrence for this one,” Yusef walks up to Ander and indicates his head toward the steps that lead to the second floor. “Go on, Guzman is going to take your suitcases upstairs but you have to decide what room you want. The others are up there. Go. Figure out which room suits you and Omar best. We’ll make breakfast while you guys unpack.”

Iman watches Ander climb up the stairs, when she looks back at Yusef, he’s regarding her thoughtfully.

She nods her chin at him. “What?”

“You like this one more than the other one,” Yusef says.

“What other one?” Iman asks, feigning ignorance.

“The other white one, Guzman.” Yusef rolls his eyes.

Iman shrugs, not confirming the statement nor denying it. “I think this one needs more validation. He’s quiet but he’s not sure if we like him. I think he always thinks he’s imposing.”

Yusef chuckles. “The _boy_ that my son married thinks he’s imposing?” He shakes his head in disbelief. Iman watches him, amused and relieved. A decade ago, she would not have taken her husband as someone willing not only to accept his son’s marriage, but also willing to make jokes about it.“He better! He _married my son!”_

His words make Iman laugh. She taps her husband on the shoulder, trying to sound serious. “Be nice to the white boys,” she says, voice laced with mock reprimand. “At least be nice to that one.”

Yusef nods in agreement. “He’s… simple, he can’t handle me being mean.”

“For the love of--” Iman stops herself. “Go make the breakfast you promised our son-in-law.”

Iman is filled with acute happiness as she watches her husband go, humming an old Arabic love song, one that was popular when the two of them had married. She looks back at the stairs toward where her children have disappeared, and sighs. Iman had never thought she’d feel this comfortable with her children’s life choices, that she’d see her children married to people they loved, happy and successful, and be able to share in their happiness. After May’s decision to leave them, she’d had little to no hope of a happy future for Nadia and Omar.

She shakes herself out of the sad thoughts as Yusef yells for her from the kitchen, asking for her help.

No point in dwelling on things she cannot fix. All she can do for now is to make sure the children that she has left are happy, and that is what Iman is going to do.

She walks to the kitchen and begins brewing tea.

\--

After breakfast, Guzman asks Iman and Yusef whether they’d had anything planned for the day.

“We were going to walk down to the town,” Yusef says. “See the plaza--”

“Piazza,” Omar cuts in, a grin on his face.

Yusef glares at him, then picks up what he’d been saying as if Omar had not interrupted. “See this,” he gestures wildly towards where Iman thinks the town is. “Cathedral. And then I don’t know, eat lunch?”

Nadia is nodding. “Should we come with you?”

Yusef looks at her like she’s stupid. “No, stay here instead and sit on your bottoms for this whole vacation you’ve paid for.”

They walk together to the town, Guzman and Nadia leading the little group, once in a while falling back to talk to Omar or Ander or point out something in the scenery out to Iman and Yusef. Iman watches the four of them as she and Yusef bring up the rear. She can’t believe that she’s so privileged. Her kids are happy, her husband is content, and their unified happiness makes Iman happy. She had never thought that her children and her husband would get to this point, where all three are content, yet no one has had to make sacrifices. Iman doesn’t think there is anything in the world right now that would improve her situation.

The cathedral square is crowded with festival goers when they get there. Guzman had told everyone on their way to the town that there wasn’t a performance in the morning; however, this did not mean that they should not expect some business near the town’s main cathedral. He’d been right, the square is buzzing with activity. People are moving to and fro, and the crowd is so thick that Iman has to call out to the kids to stay near them as they begin descending down the square.

The kids ignore her, of course.

She watches Guzman and Nadia walk briskly down the square toward the cathedral. She grips Yusef’s arm tighter and points him toward them, indicating that she and Yusef should follow. As they make their way toward Nadia and Guzman, Iman sees Omar ahead of them, walking backwards aimlessly as he drags Ander forward by the hands. When both she and Yusef have made it to the end of the square, Nadia suddenly appears again at Iman’s shoulder.

“Do you want to take a picture, Mom?”

Of course Iman wants to take a picture with Nadia. She hands her purse to Yusef and holds Nadia close to her. They take several pictures together, then Guzman and Yusef join them, taking first a selfie, then looking around for Omar and Ander to take a picture of the four of them.

It’s Guzman who spots Omar and Ander first. “Omar!” He waves his arms.

Omar turns toward them, and when Guzman makes a come here gesture with his hands, he takes off jogging in their direction. One of his hands is still gripping Ander’s and maybe this is throwing Ander’s balance off, because Ander stumbles and falls to the ground. Omar stops immediately, bending down to ask if he’s ok.

Nadia and Guzman rush to them, and the three of them fuss over Ander for a whole minute before they deem that he is, in fact, not hurt, and turn to walk toward Iman and Yusef.

Iman doesn’t blame them, she felt her own heart skip a beat when she saw the boy falling. She hadn’t known him when he’d had cancer, hadn’t seen the effects of chemotherapy on him until after he was in remission, but she still feels the preciousness of his life, still knows how close her son came to losing him.

“Are you alright?” Yusef asks Ander when the four finally reach them.

“Yeah I’m fine.” Ander swaps at Guzman’s hand, which is still on his bicep. “I literally just tripped, I’m not even bleeding.”

Reassured, Nadia asks Omar if he can take a picture of her and Guzman, plus their parents. Then, Guzman and Omar switch sides for a family picture. Again there’s a switch, and there’s a picture of just the children and their spouses. Then, Omar and Ander with the parents. Finally, needing someone else to take a picture of the whole family, Nadia begins looking around at the strangers around them. When she sees an elderly couple walking past, she asks, in an Italian that truly impresses Iman, whether they’d take a picture of them.

Iman wants to look at the picture immediately after it’s taken, glad to have something to remember this moment by.

The kids, having taken enough pictures outside of the cathedral, voice a desire to go inside.

“There’s a beautiful fresco inside the dome by Flippo Lippi,” Nadia says.

Iman, not knowing or caring much who Filippo Lippi is, looks at Yusef. He doesn’t seem to have any objections to going inside the church, and tells the kids this.

Relieved, the kids begin making their way toward the cathedral door. As they do, Iman stops Ander, taking his arm as he follows Omar inside.

“Are you sure that you’re ok?” she asks. She should feel a bit ridiculous at the worry that tugs at her heart. He had just stumbled, he hadn’t even scraped his skin. But this morning, when he’d asked her, shyly, whether she’d wanted them at the vacation, he’d been so reminiscent of a small child that Iman feels like a woman who’s just had a child and worries about every stumble and fall that child takes. “Because if not, we can just go back to the villa.”

Ander smiles at her, hig big smile, the one that takes over his whole face and crinkles his eyes. “I’m sure I’m ok. Don’t worry about me!” With that, he bends down to kiss her on the cheek, something he has not done before. She hugs him, still a bit worried, but she releases him from her hug once he pulls back.

“I’m gonna catch up to Omar,” Ander says and takes off in a run.

Iman watches him, a small smile on her lips. She wants to shout “be careful!” after him, as if he really is her young son, prone to scraped knees and muddy hands.

She doesn’t shout, but she does wave at him when he turns around one last time to look at her.

As Ander disappears through the cathedral door, Iman thinks that she should probably head into the place with Yusef. She looks for her husband and sees that he is already halfway to the Cathedral. Iman makes to go after him.

Then, she hears a voice.

“Mom?”

She hasn’t heard this voice in years, over a decade. She’s not sure if she ever thought she’d hear it again. She’s spent years and years wondering what had happened, how the owner of the voice was doing. Was she alive? Was she taken care of? Did she have people who loved her? Not once in the many years that Iman spent worrying for her eldest daughter, did she ever entertain the hope that she’d hear her voice again.

Iman turns.

“May?”

**May**

May had agreed to this ridiculous vacation only because her husband, Jose Luis, seemed really excited about the idea. Well... that and also she had wanted to go to Italy. But May had wanted to go to the famous places in Italy--Rome, Venice, Florence. She’d wanted to see Michelangelo’s David and the Colosseum. She’d wanted to ride on a gondola in Venice and buy Carnival masks.

This tiny town in the middle of Umbria, despite its idyllic beauty, had not been her first choice for a vacation destination.

Jose Luis promised her that they would end the vacation by visiting the famous Italian cities, but he’d insisted that they go to Spoleto first.

May, who had been very excited to go to Italy, finds herself less than pleased by the charms of Spoleto. It’s a small town which boasts no true attractions. If May wanted to see tiny medieval towns, she’d have stayed in Spain and walked outside her home.

She is even less pleased by the opera festival, which has made the small city both crowded with people and impossible to navigate. May wants to take her husband’s hand and drag him away from this crowd of people, not because she hates crowds, but because she can’t fathom how, in this day and age, these people are so into opera music. Sadly, Jose Luis seems to be really enjoying himself, and really, can May complain about that? Her husband is happy here. He had wanted to see the festival, wanted to hear opera music, wanted to spend a few days in the summer away from Spain and his job.

More than anything else, more than gondolas and the Colosseum, May had wanted Jose Luis to be happy.

Today Jose Luis has dragged her to the main cathedral in Spoleto, talking excitedly about the mosaic on its facade and the frescoes inside. At the head of the square, looking down, May decides that she will have fun.

“Ready to go down and see some art?” she asks her husband.

Jose Luis nods and takes May’s hand, walking the two of them down the cathedral square. May watches the groups of people as they walk, letting her eyes roam over them passively, trusting Jose Luis to guide her.

She’s barely paying attention to the crowd of people, so she almost misses it the first time. But something drags her gaze back to where she’d looked just a moment before and May has to stop.

Jose Luis looks at her, concerned, asking her what’s wrong.

But May cannot answer him. She’s transfixed by the image in front of her. An image out of her dreams, a phantasm. A shade.

It’s her brother, her little brother whom she hasn’t seen in over a decade. She recognizes him immediately, despite the long years. To her, it seems like he hasn’t changed one bit. His eyebrows are still prominent and bushy. When he smiles, his face lights up in the same way it used to when he was a small child. He has grown out his hair, and the little bit of stubble that appears on his face is actually less than what he had when she left.

She takes a step toward him and stops.

Jose Luis is at her shoulder. “Are you ok? May?”

She can’t answer him, can only nod her head in response as she watches her little brother--the boy she never thought she’d see again--wrap his arms around a man’s neck and lean up to kiss him. May, thinking now that she definitely, absolutely, undoubtedly, must be dreaming, takes another step toward Omar in surprise.

As she gets closer, May sees the other man lean in to say something to Omar and the two of them lean backwards together, eyes closed and mouth wide in laughter. May’s eyes focus on Omar’s laughing figure, her breathing shallow, her heart beating in her throat.

Is this her brother? Her quiet, reserved little brother, who never once sought her out to talk about his feelings or to tell her about his day? Is it really her brother who is now holding another man's hand in public and dragging him down the square toward the cathedral? How did he turn into this person, May thinks, growing up in the strict household of their parents? How did he become so comfortable that he can kiss another man in public, when it had taken May many years to overcome the repression imposed on her by her family?

Is this really her brother? Is May mistaking someone else for him?

No, there is no mistaking those eyebrows.

She feels the brush of fingertips against her own and looks down to see that Jose Luis has laced their fingers together. She opens her mouth to say something to him, to tell him, yell at him, “Look it’s my brother! It’s my little brother Omar! Right there! I haven’t seen him in years!” But she can’t speak.

She looks back to where Omar and the man had been. The man has turned around. The sun is hitting his hair, making the curls stand out and shine and as he laughs again, throwing his weight back but holding on tightly to Omar’s hand, May is taken back by how pretty he is. Not that Omar isn’t pretty, of course her little brother is beautiful, but this man...

May takes another step towards Omar and the man clinging to him. Jose Luis follows.

“May?”

“Hmm?” May takes another step.

“Who are they?” When May turns to look at him, his gaze is fixed on Omar and his mystery man.

“The curly haired one I have no idea,” May says honestly. “The other one… he’s my brother,” May stops, needing to take a deep breath. “His name is--”

“Omar!” Someone yells across the square, from near the cathedral, loud enough that May can hear it. She looks toward the direction where the voice came from, but the person who yelled is too far away and she can’t make him out. May looks back towards Omar just in time to see him turn around and begin jogging, dragging the other man behind him toward the voice.

May begins to walk closer, still watching Omar. As she nears him and he nears the back of the square, the other man stumbles and falls. Omar immediately falls to his knees and talks to him, his brows knitted together, his arm on the other man’s elbow.

A moment later, two other figures are by the stranger’s side, and May realizes with surprise that one of them is Nadia.

She stops in her tracks.

Nadia is not wearing her hijab.

Nadia is with Omar in Italy, seeming completely at ease with Omar kissing a man, and Nadia is not wearing a hijab.

May feels faint.

There is no universe in which she thinks that her sister--her rule following, strict and solemn sister--would take off her hijab willingly.

There is no universe, May thinks as the man who had run over with Nadia helps the other man stand up, in which Nadia is still talking to their parents while supporting Omar’s relationship with a man and abandoning the hijab.

Continuing to approach the group, May sees the man who had fallen shake his head at all three of the people hovering around him. As he takes a step, May sees the other stranger--the one who had run over with Nadia--grab his shoulder. May is not close enough to hear what the man who fell says but he doesn’t look happy at all. May watches, fascinated, as the man tries to dislodge his arm from his friend’s grip with no success.

Heart beating rapidly in her chest, May tells herself to call out to her siblings. They’re right there and May can get their attention. She can talk to her little brother and sister again. She can, _she can_ , she just has to call out. May shuts her eyes, biting her bottom lip hard. She opens her eyes. Opens her mouth. She’s about to call out to Nadia and Omar, when she feels Jose Luis’s hand on her shoulder.

“Is that your sister?”

Unable to form words, May nods.

“Should we say hi?”

May wants to, she was just about to. But now the moment has passed and May feels a little weak when she considers calling out to her siblings.

Her siblings. The two of them had never been very close, they had never been the kind of people who would go on vacation together.

What has happened in the years since she last saw them?

“May?”

May shakes her head. Her throat feels tight. It’s been so long since she last talked to her siblings. They’re grown up, adults. Will they even recognize her if she goes up to them, will they want to see her?

A few paces away, the group of four--her siblings and two strangers--begin walking toward the cathedral. May follows them with her eyes, and gasps out loud when they reach their destination.

Her parents.

May shuts her eyes tightly, then opens them again.

Her father is now addressing the boy whom Omar had been kissing publicly not five minutes ago.

Knowing it to be a myth but seeing no alternatives, May pinches her own arm to make sure she’s awake. It hurts, but it doesn’t assure May that she is not dreaming.

She watches, flabbergasted, as her parents take pictures with Nadia and the second man, then Omar and his man. Then, her jaw drops open as Nadia asks a random stranger to take a picture of all of them.

This cannot be real, May thinks as she watches her mother put her arms around Omar and her father around Nadia, while the two men stand on their other side. They’re all smiling. They look happy.

It’s so implausible that May thinks she is becoming hysterical. Her eyes must be bulging out of their sockets, her throat is dry and her heart is beating so loudly, Jose Luis must be hearing it.

She turns toward him, speechless.

“Your parents?” He asks, the curiosity in his voice laced with something more harsh.

May nods.

“You should say hello.” Jose Luis says, gaze fixed on May’s family. “You should let them know that you’re here.”

May swallows, attempting to rejuvenate her dry throat and get a word, any word really, out. _Is it a good idea?_ She wants to ask, but instead she says, “Why?”

“They’re your parents,” Jose Luis responds. There’s no more curiosity left in his voice, only the hard edge of anger. “They owe it to you to see how you’re doing.”

May is not sure she agrees. She looks back toward her parents, just in time to see her brother and sister follow the man who hadn’t fallen into the cathedral. As Omar’s man goes to follow, her mother stops him by grabbing his arm.

“Go say hi.” Jose Luis’ voice is firm, and it sets May in motion. He’s right. The people standing just a few feet away from her, completely unaware of her presence, are her parents; her parents who were too strict on her, who didn’t allow her to have Spanish friends, who drove her away from them and her siblings with their stupid rules. Those are the same parents who smiled at Nadia without her hijab.

The same parents, the same mother, who is now hugging the man Omar had been kissing.

May makes up her mind.

She starts walking toward her mother, not checking to see if Jose Luis is following. As she nears her mother, May’s heartbeat grows louder and louder, until it is the only thing she can hear. Both her parents are turned away from her, her father already walking towards the cathedral.

May stops just behind her mother.

She can feel her heartbeat in her fingers, in her belly, in her calves. She reaches out with a hand to touch Iman, but stops herself when she sees how hard her hand is shaking.

Dropping her hand by her side, May opens her mouth.

No words come out.

May swallows and tries again.

This time her voice does come out, hoarse and barely audible. “Mom?” Although they are only a few steps away from each other, her mother doesn’t hear May with the roar of the square.

May tries one last time. “Mom?”

It takes May’s mother so long to react, May almost retreats and runs away.

But then May sees her mother turn around slowly, eyes wide as they land on her eldest daughter. “May?”

Feeling tears in the corners of her eyes and having lost her voice again, May simply nods.

Iman takes a quick, deep breath, and her left hand comes up to cover her mouth. In the next moment, she moves forward and May Is engulfed in a crushing hug.

May’s arms come up as well, but before she has a chance to really appreciate this hug from her mother--whom she has not spoken to in over ten years--Iman pulls away. Something sharp hits May’s chest, thinking that her mother has changed her mind and no longer wants to hug her, but Iman doesn’t move out of her space. She merely turns around and calls over May’s father.

May sees the moment her father registers who she is. One moment his face is drawn together in impatience, the next all emotion has been wiped from it. He walks toward Iman and May slowly, so slowly that May thinks it’s taking him years to reach them.

He reaches her finally, and without a word, his hands come up to cradle her face. His hands are warm, comforting, and May has to resist the urge to close her eyes. Instead, May looks into her father’s face. There are tears in his eyes as his gaze roams May’s face. Overwhelmed by the love in his gaze, May finally closes her eyes, feeling tears escape them and fall down her cheek. In the next breath, her father is hugging her tightly.

A moment later, she feels another hand on her shoulder, and her mother joins in the hug.

Hours, years, centuries later, May’s parents pull back, looking at May like she’s a miracle they hadn’t been expecting.

No one says anything. May _can’t_ say anything and she thinks her parents are in the same boat.

She doesn’t know what she expected but she had not thought her parents would hug her while crying. She thought they’d scream, yell, disown her officially, cut her out of their life once again, this time on purpose.

A lot has happened since she left home.

Finally, it’s May’s father who speaks. “Iman, go get the kids from the church.”

Not looking away from May’s face, her mother says. “You go get them. They’re more likely to come if you tell them to.”

Apparently her father can’t argue with this, because he sighs as he takes a step away from May, then another. With a third step he looks away and rushes into the church.

When he has gone, May looks at her mother. She’s older, there are more lines on her face, but she looks less stressed, happier. Iman raises her hand and begins stroking May’s hair as words slip out of her lips in Arabic.

“My little girl,” she says, bringing May’s forehead to her lips and kissing it. “My baby girl, where have you been?”

May feels hot tears sting her eyes again and she closes them tightly as she shakes his head. There’s nothing she could say to her mom now, nothing that would satisfy either of them. May had thought that she’d never see her family again, and if she did meet them accidentally, she had been sure that they would shun her. This is so different from her expectations, May is stunned silent.

Iman pulls her into another hug, a longer one, and cradles her head as they both cry. May doesn’t know if these are tears of joy or pain, but she does know that as each tear falls, she feels lighter.

“Mom,” she says, the first thing she’s said since her mother turned around. She blinks the tears away from her eyes. “I--”

She’s interrupted by someone shouting her name. Both she and her mother turn as Nadia runs, really runs, toward May and crashes into her. Her arms grab at May’s shoulders with surprising force, a force that knocks the breath out of May. By the time she’s regained enough composure, Nadia is pulling back. Nadia opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, she’s pushed aside by Omar, who looks at May, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open. He regards her for a moment then pulls her into his arms, hugging her just as tightly as Nadia had.

May spies the two strangers, standing a bit behind, looking hesitant. Now that May can see them clearly, she notices how _Spanish_ they both are. The one who had been with Omar is pretty at least, the other one is just… a Spanish dude. A bland, white, Spanish dude. May had never thought she’d see her sister with someone so stereotypically European.

When Omar pulls back, a heavy silence falls, and despite the boisterous crowd in the square, May feels the silence weighing on her shoulders.

There’s nothing for May to say. Her siblings are here, her parents are here, she’s seeing them for the first time in over a decade and she can’t think of a goddamn thing to say.

Finally, as the silence becomes uncomfortable, the bland one walks toward the group. “Hey,” he says, extending his hand toward May. “Nice to meet you, my name is Guzman, I’m Nadia’s husband.”

 _Husband_ echoes through May’s body as she takes Guzman’s hand and shakes it. When had her sister grown old enough to be married?

After Guzman drops May’s hand, he smiles. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Nadia,” he says. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

Glad for Guzman’s very normal conversation, May clings to it, wanting it to continue. She turns to her sister, “Husband?” she asks, incredulous.

“I’m twenty-eight, I had to get married some time.” Nadia shrugs.

Looking behind Guzman, May indicates with her head the other man, the pretty one whose name she doesn’t know yet.

Before May has a chance to ask who that man is, or maybe try to introduce herself, Guzman speaks up. “This is Ander,” he says and when Ander doesn’t make a move to come and shake May’s hand, Guzman gestures for him to come forward with his hand. Ander approaches May, smiling hesitantly.

“And who is Ander?”

Ander extends his hand to shake hers. His face is nowhere near as friendly as Guzman’s, but it’s not hostile either. When they shake hands, May looks down and her gaze catches on a wedding band on his left hand.

May looks up, smiling at Ander, trying to disguise her surprise.

 _Her brother’s husband_ , she thinks incredulously, as Ander drops her hand and looks over at Omar.

Before Omar has a chance to respond, Yusef cuts in. He places a hand on May’s shoulder and points to Guzman. “This white boy is married to your sister,” then he points to Ander. “This one is married to your brother. Mystery solved, do you have other questions?”

May does, she has lots of questions, like _how did my siblings meet these men?_ Or _how long has Omar been married? What about Nadia?_ Or _when did you find out that Omar is gay?_ Or _When did you guys become ok with having a daughter who married a Christian?_ Or _When did you guys become ok with having a gay and married son?_ Or _if I had stayed, would I have received the same freedom as my siblings?_

She doesn’t say any of those things. Instead, May looks around for her husband. She needs to find him. Needs him to see her family, see him introduce himself to them, see him notice how glad they are to see May. She looks around nervously, her eyes not staying in one place long enough to locate Jose Luis. When she finally finds him, she gestures for him to come forward with a shaking hand.

“This is Jose Luis,” she says to her parents, grabbing Jose Luis’ arm as soon as he’s close enough to touch and holding on to him for dear life. “He’s my husband.”

Jose Luis gently dislodges himself from May’s hold and shakes first Yusef’s hand then Iman’s. As he moves on to Nadia and Omar, Yusef mutters under his breath. “This one had to find a white boy too?”

Without meaning to, May starts laughing, a little hysterical. She’d never thought she’d hear her father say such a statement with so much humor. “I’m sorry,” she says, not believing the words that come out of her mouth.

Her father glances at her softly and smiles. May thinks how odd it is that she spent so many years thinking her parents were angry with her and now, when they’ve met again, they seem to have forgiven her for running away and breaking their hearts.

“Don’t apologize,” her father continues. “Older children are supposed to make dumb decisions and marry white boys. These two,” he gestures at Omar and Nadia, “have no excuse.”

As Jose Luis shakes hands with Ander and Guzman, a more comfortable silence falls on the company. May’s chest is overrunning with love, curiosity, relief. She wants to find a place to settle down and talk to her sister and her brother and her parents for hours. She wants to go somewhere quiet, away from the crowd of people in the square, and just stare at her family.

Jose Luis seems to understand her desire, because he is the one that breaks the silence. “I don’t mean to intrude,” he says. “But perhaps, if you guys want, we can go somewhere quiet. Our hotel room or wherever you’re staying?”

Guzman responds to him. “We’ll go back to the villa,” he says. “We can cancel our plans for the afternoon. We’ll just do them tomorrow.” He turns to Yusef then, his eyes questioning.

Nadia’s father looks at Guzman like a fed-up parent. “Yes, of course,” he says, as Guzman waits for an answer. “Let’s go back to the villa.”

“I’ll get two taxis.” Omar already has his phone out.

May doesn’t know what to say while they’re waiting for the taxis. Her feelings are all over the place, running to and fro, hyper, active, refusing to let May relax. After she’d met her siblings’ husbands, she’d felt a calm settle over her. Now, she’s anxious once more.

Fortunately, no one else seems to want to talk either.

\--

After they arrive at the villa, and while her mother and father make them coffee, May learns several things about her siblings’ lives. She learns that both met their spouses when they were still in school. She learns that Omar had left home after their father had had a heart attack. She has to stop the story then because, “Dad had a heart attack?”

Nadia and Omar nod.

“And it took you guys this long to tell me?” May tries to keep her voice calm, but she’s not sure she succeeds. The fact that her father had a heart attack while she was gone, that he could have _died_ while she had no idea, makes her feel like she can't breath.

“Uh,” Omar says, very unhelpfully. He looks over at Nadia.

“It was a horrible time,” Nadia says. “We try not to think about it.”

May decides to drop the subject for now.

She encourages her siblings to tell her more about their lives, and as a result learns that this vacation had been planned mainly by Guzman and had been a surprise for her parents. She learns that her sister went to the United States for school and that her brother got married at the age of twenty one.

“So young!” May can’t help but exclaim.

Her brother’s husband laughs. “What’s the point of waiting when you know.” The statement must have embarrassed him because he looks down at his hands sheepishly after saying this. May places that statement away for a moment to marvel at how deep Ander’s voice is. She hadn’t heard him speaking in the square and now that she does hear his voice, she’s surprised. His pretty face doesn’t lend itself to such a deep voice.

“Does anyone know anything at twenty one, though?” Nadia is saying to Ander. Her question would be a bit rude, but her tone is indulgent and her eyes are regarding him with affection.

Ander shrugs.

Nadia looks like she's about to argue, but Omar speaks up, addressing May. “What about you? What have you been doing?”

She tells her siblings about herself as her parents bring in the coffee. She says nothing about the several years where she’d moved from town to town, looking for jobs, but a little bit after that, when she’d landed in Valencia and started vocational school. She reintroduces Jose Luis to them fully as well. She tells them that they now live in a small village called Toga, and that Jose Luis works for the municipality as a civil engineer.

May’s siblings tease her for ending up so respectable after running away from home, but they do it with so much relief that May doesn’t take any offense. Her parents are less talkative than Nadia and Omar. They seem content just to hear her talking. Her mother keeps coming up to May once in a while, stroking her hair with one hand or kissing her temple, then returning to her seat as if nothing had happened. Her father sends glances her way constantly, and has not stopped smiling since they arrived at the villa.

Eventually, May’s mom stands, saying that she needs to cook. Her father says he will help her and when Nadia and Ander get up as well, the two wave them away.

“You kids stay with May,” May’s father says. “We’ll just make something simple.”

Watching her parents disappear into the kitchen, May figures that it’s assumed that she and Jose Luis are staying for dinner. Jose Luis doesn’t seem to mind.

As Nadia tells May about her job, May begins thinking about how Jose Luis must be feeling. He’s always held a grudge against May’s family for driving her away, but he must be flabbergasted by this reception just as much as May is. May kinda wishes that they could talk alone, but she doesn’t want to leave Nadia and Omar.

“Do you want to see the pool?” Guzman asks after Nadia is done with her story. “We can swim in it while we wait for dinner.”

Nadia likes this idea, Jose Luis does as well. Ander shrugs, compliant but not enthusiastic, as he follows Guzman up the stairs to get some swimsuits. When they come back, they have an extra pair which they offer to May’s husband.

Jose Luis accepts it gratefully, though he does say that if they didn’t have a spare, he would have just gotten his shorts wet.

“You absolutely would not have,” May tells him.

She watches, smiling as her husband laughs.

“I’ll just go and change if someone can direct me to a bathroom?”

Wordlessly, Guzman gestures for Jose Luis to follow him.

May turns away from her husband’s retreating form and sees that Nadia has been watching her. “Do you want one of my swimming suits?”

“No.” May doesn’t really want to deal with wet hair right now.

Nadia shrugs. “You can sit by the pool and soak up the sun, then.” She leaves May, saying that she needs to go upstairs to change. It seems suddenly that everyone but Omar and herself have gone to change into pool-appropriate clothing.

She looks at Omar. Omar looks at her, smiling. “I’m not gonna swim so I can just take you to the pool now.”

May follows him outside, through the flower garden, and to the pool.

“Omar,” May says once they’ve settled into two different pool chairs. It’s quiet right now, with the peace of the afternoon only broken by the chatter of birds.

Omar, stretching his body out on his pool chair and using his hand to shield his eyes from the sun, looks over at her. “Yes?”

May can’t find the words she wants to say to him, so she shakes her head. She watches Omar wiggling around, trying to remain comfortable while making the sun not hit his eyes. Once his efforts fail, he takes out his phone and makes a call.

May hears him utter a term of endearment she never thought she’d hear him say, and figures he must be talking to his husband. “Can you bring down my sunglasses?” he says to the phone. “They’re on top of the dresser. Thanks.” Omar is about to hang up the phone when he remembers something else. “Don’t forget to put on lots of sunscreen. Ander, come on, do you want to get burned?”

When he hangs up, May is smiling at him. “I never imagined you married.”

Omar glances over at her, then toward the pool. “I never imagined myself married either.”

May reaches a hand over and takes Omar’s. “What happened?” She squeezes Omar’s hand, hoping that he understands her desire to just learn more about him. It keeps hitting her over and over again that she’s talking to her little brother.

Omar shrugs. “Can’t control love,” he says, voice slightly sarcastic.

“Omar,” May laughs, releasing his hand to push at his shoulder. “Be serious.”

Omar shrugs again. “Do you want the long and painful version or the short and sweet version?” His tone is still sarcastic, but there’s a hint of seriousness in it.

Before she has a chance to respond, she hears footsteps and turns around to see Ander walking toward them, swinging a pair of sunglasses in one hand. He drops the glasses on top of Omar’s chest, then looks around. “Am I really the first one out?”

“Guzman needs several hours to apply enough sunscreen to his very white body,” Omar responds, not missing a beat. He puts on his sunglasses.

It makes Ander laugh, and he sits down on the side of Omar’s pool chair. May watches Omar watch his husband and resists the urge to smile.

“Did you put on enough sunscreen?”

Ander rolls his eyes. “Yes, mom.”

His petulant voice makes May laugh. Both Omar and Ander look over at her.

“You’re married,” she says to Omar as an explanation.

“Seven years and counting.” Omar gives her a lopsided smile. “Eight this fall if nothing goes wrong.”

“Excuse me,” His husband says with mock offense. “What do you mean if nothing goes wrong, what can go wrong?”

Omar shrugs. “Nuclear apocalypse,” he says holding his index finger up. “Swarm of deadly wasps. You forgetting to put your dirty socks in the hamper where they belong…”

“Asshole,” Ander laughs. He’s looking at Omar with so much affection in his eyes that May feels like she needs to remind them she’s here… in case they had forgotten.

“Did you propose?” She asks her brother.

She’d been right, her brother and his husband had forgotten that she was sitting right next to them. They look at her in sync.

“Who?” Omar, who had definitely not been paying attention to May a second ago asks.

“You.”

“Do I look like the kind of person who proposes, May?” The smile on Omar’s face makes May think that he was in fact the one who proposed.

She shrugs. “I don’t know, you don’t look like someone who got married at twenty-one.”

“He did,” Ander said. “It was very--”

“Alright, ok.” Omar raises himself to a sitting position with his elbows and starts pushing on his husband’s shoulders. “Enough of that. We don’t need to let my sister know how uncool I am _today.”_

“You’re not uncool,” Ander says.

“You are,” Omar responds. “Why are you even sitting here? Didn’t you want to swim?”

“I did… but no one is here yet and I can hang out with you if I sit here,” Ander looks toward May. “And your sister.” He smiles at her.

She smiles back. His smile is contagious.

“I like him here,” she says to Omar. “I’m learning so much about you.”

“Yeah,” Omar says. “That’s why I want him to leave.”

Ander laughs at him, but when he starts poking Ander’s side, he gets up. “Ok, fine, I’m up.”

Before Omar has a chance to tease his husband even more, Jose Luis shows up, followed by Nadia and Guzman. He stops to quickly ask May if she really is ok not going into the pool. When May answers in the affirmative, he kisses her forehead and makes his way to the pool.

Ander joins them, flipping Omar off as he follows Guzman into the pool.

“So,” May begins once she and Omar are functionally alone again.

“So,” Omar responds.

Sighing, May turns to one side to look at her brother. “Don’t be a dick. How… Omar I didn’t even know you were gay when I left home. How did this happen?”

“This?”

May closes her eyes. “Yes, your extremely, unnaturally pretty husband who seems to adore you.”

Omar takes off his sunglasses just to give her an incredulous look. “My pretty husband,” Omar says.

“Don’t. You’re married to him.”

Settling his sunglasses back over his eyes and leaning back on the pool chair, Omar says, “He _is_ very pretty.” Then, “We met on a gay hookup app.”

May laughs. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. We were sixteen, we both wanted to fuck and then we matched, and the rest is history.”

“The rest is not history,” May argues.

“Nope. How sad do you want to get today?”

May shrugs her shoulders, hoping that Omar sees it. “I have cried a lot today. What’s a little more tears?”

“Ok, you asked.”

May attentively listens as Omar tells her about how he’d felt trapped at home, how he’d started dealing drugs to save up money to leave, how originally he met Ander because he’d sold Ander weed.

“You said you met on a hookup app!”

“Dear lord, just listen!” He continues the story, telling her everything that happened to him up to when their dad kicked him out.

“Where did you go?”

“Ander’s mom took me in.”

“That was kind of her,” May says absentmindedly. “How did you start talking with mom and dad again?”

“They were sad that they kicked me out,” Omar says. “Probably since I was the second child that left them. We had dinner, I told them about Ander and then we…. reconciled.”

“Just like that?” May asks. She’d never thought it’d be so easy.

“They love us,” Omar responds. “Sometimes they don’t know how to treat us well, but deep in their heart, they love us.”

May nods, turmoil churning in her belly. In the years she had been gone, she’d never once thought it would be _that_ easy to reconnect with her parents. They had been so strict while she was growing up, that she’d thought she would have to grovel to have their affection again. Yet, all May had to do was return and her parents would have accepted her with open arms.

May feels herself becoming gloomy. Tears are prickling the side of her eyes. She looks away from Omar so that he doesn’t see her tears, taking her gaze to the pool. Guzman and Ander are engaged in what seems to be a battle of who can splash the other with more water. May focuses on them, forcing her voice back to normal. “It’s nice that those two get along.”

Omar laughs. “Yeah, it’s really nice.” There’s irony in his voice that tells May she’s missing something.

“What?”

“They’ve been best friends since they were kids,” Omar responds, also looking toward the pool. “Went to the same school, ran in the same circles, have known each other literally since preschool, kind of best friends.”

May’s brows raise as her eyes widen. “How did you and Nadia end up married to a pair of friends?”

“Dumb luck,” Omar responds.

May asks him about Nadia, and he, glad to be talking about Nadia’s dumb choices instead of his own, enthusiastically tells her about Nadia and Guzman’s relationship.

By the time dinner is ready, May feels like she knows her siblings a little better. She’s also learned about how much her parents have grown, which warms her heart.

After they eat and are sitting in the garden, May’s father turns to Jose Luis and May. “What are your plans for tomorrow?”

May, who knows nothing about their itinerary and has been humoring her husband as he freaks out about silly old things, turns to Jose Luis.

“We were planning on going to the festival during the night,” Jose Luis says. “And during the day we were just going to explore the city, maybe look at the Lippi fresco.”

“The kids want to see some fort museum during the day,” May’s father tells May and Jose Luis. “What is it called? Omar?”

“Rocca Albornoziana.”

“Rocca Albornoziana. You’re both welcome to come if you want.”

May looks over at her mother, then Nadia, both of their faces are lit up with excitement at that prospect. She looks at Jose Luis, who nods at her.

“We’d love to,” May tells her father.

When it’s nearing midnight, Jose Luis begins yawning. May, reluctant to leave her family but not wanting her husband to fall asleep, decides that it is time to go. She stands up. She’s not sure who to hug first, her parents or her siblings. She embraces every single one of her family members in goodbye and shakes hands with her brother-in-laws.

“See you tomorrow” goes around as everyone says their goodbye, eager for meeting each other the next morning.

\--

An hour later, when both she and Jose Luis are tucked into bed and May has almost fallen asleep, she hears her husband’s voice.

“What a day.”

May hums in agreement, exhausted and too happy to form words.

“Your family was different than I expected,” Jose Luis goes on.

Sighing, May turns onto her back. “They were different from what I was expecting too, a lot changes in a decade.”

“More than a decade,” Jose Luis adds.

“More than a decade.”

Jose Luis is silent for so long that May almost falls asleep.

“It was nice though.”

“Yes,” May agrees, closing her eyes. “It was very nice.”

**Yusef**

“Your husband is trying to endear me to pagan things,” Yusef says to Nadia as the group crosses _Ponte delle Torri_ and Guzman tells them it used to be an ancient Roman aqueduct. She’s walking next to him, her arm interlaced with her mother’s. In front of her, Guzman is talking with May and her husband. Omar and Ander are walking at a slower pace, trailing them.

As Nadia glares at him goodnaturedly, he can hear Guzman ask May a question, and May answer him kindly.

Yusef stops his griping to Nadia to look at his eldest daughter. It’s still strange, almost unbelievable, that she’s here, with them. He had known that she was with them, had greeted her this morning and sat down in the blue tiled kitchen with her and her husband for breakfast. He’d had dinner with her on the dining set next to the pool last night. Yet, during the night, every time he’d looked away from her, he’d forgotten that she was there. Then she’d say something, or laugh, and Yusef would remember all over again that _she was with them._

Today, Yusef thinks watching May smile, he won’t forget.

Yusef looks down and touches the worn and weathered stones on the bridge, letting his fingers skim over the grooves and holes that age has created. Guzman had mentioned that the bridge used to be a Roman aqueduct. The thought crosses Yusef’s mind, _how many people_ _have touched these same rocks? How many people crossed this bridge?_ These stones, the ones his feet walk on and his fingers brush, have been in the same place for over a thousand years. Yusef feels a connection to the long dead engineers who built the aqueduct, to the peasants and knights who crossed the bridge during medieval times. If he closes his eyes, he can almost see their ghosts, walking, hammering, yelling.

 _This pagan thing is nice_ , he wants to comment to Nadia. But when he turns to look at her he finds that she’s moved ahead to join the conversation with May and Guzman.

Yusef, uninterested by the frescos in the Spoleto cathedral and the man who painted them, begins slowing his steps so that he can enjoy his time on the bridge. As he slows down, Omar and his husband catch up to him.

“You like the bridge?” Omar asks Yusef. There’s a smile on his face that Yusef doesn’t particularly like. It makes him think Omar is in on a joke that Yusef doesn’t get.

“It’s a very well constructed structure,” Yusef shrugs.

“Wasn’t meant to be a bridge at all. Nadia told me you know, they turned it into one in the medieval times.”

Yusef nods at his son, silently. He’s interested in a variety of subjects but medieval Italian history is not one of them.

Next to Omar, Ander is looking around at the scenery, taking in the lush fields with a smile on his face. He points out a white building in the distance to Omar.

“What do you think that is?” Ander asks, stopping Omar.

Yusef stops too, just so the two of them do not fall behind. When Iman turns around to ask him what’s wrong, he motions for her to keep walking.

Omar walks to the edge of the bridge and squints at the building. Yusef joins him.

“I see a bell tower,” Omar says.

“Probably a church, you see those buttresses?” Ander points to the building again. “And the facade? It looks like Romanesque.”

Yusef can’t really see the facade, but apparently Omar can, because he turns to Ander and asks, voice incredulous, “When did you become an expert on Italian medieval architecture?”

Ander shakes his head. “I took an architecture class once,” he says. “And I mean, we live in Spain. I’ve seen a lot of churches.”

“So have I,” Omar responds. “So has my dad.” He indicates Yusef with his head. “But neither of us can tell what Romanesque architecture looks like.”

Yusef marvels at Omar’s tone. He’d often wondered about his son’s relationship with this boy, even after years, even after the cancer scare. Hypothetically, he knows that Omar loves the boy. The knowledge helps Yusef deal with the fact that his son didn’t marry a Muslim girl, like Yusef had wanted for him. However, it is in the small moments, when Yusef has to confront how fond Omar is of the boy, that he feels like he did the right thing by accepting his son’s choices. Omar’s tone, light and playful, seems to come from a deep place of adoration. Yusef takes a breath.

He’s had years to get used to this. Yet, every time he sees Omar treating Ander with the most careful affection, he feels surprise.

This is ok. This is spectacular. His son is in love, and Yusef accepted that years ago.

“Well, you’re Muslim,” Ander says to Omar, like that is explanation enough for why Omar knows little to nothing about medieval Italian architecture.

“Yeah, and you’re an atheist.”

Ander laughs. A loud but private laugh. A laugh that Yusef thinks only Omar can get out of him.

With a sense of embarrassment, Yusef realizes that perhaps, he shouldn’t stand here any longer. He should leave and rejoin his wife, and let his son have his moment with the Spanish, atheist boy he married.

He walks quickly toward the end of the bridge. When he reaches it, Yusef gives his hand to Iman, who’d been waiting for him.

“Where are the others?” Yusef asks.

She indicates her head down the road. “They walk too fast.”

“Do you want to catch up to them or wait here for Omar?”

“Let’s wait here for those two.” Iman is looking at Omar and Ander with the same smile she usually dons when talking about them or looking at them. Yusef doesn’t necessarily _get_ why she likes Ander so much. To him, there’s almost no difference between this white boy and the one Nadia married. “I can rest a bit before climbing another hill,” Iman continues.

“And walk with your favorite son,” Yusef nods toward Ander.

Iman sends a half-hearted glare his way. “I don’t have favorite children.”

Yusef smiles at her. “Whatever you need to tell yourself to make yourself feel better.”

Iman laughs. A bright, light laugh that makes Yusef very glad he decided to tease her.

They wait at the end of the bridge for a few more minutes. Iman likes the view and tells Yusef this. He agrees with her. It is very beautiful and very peaceful in Spoleto. He watches Omar and Ander as well. They seem to be taking pictures, both of each other and the surrounding.

“Idiot children,” he mutters under his breath. Yusef doesn’t understand the young ones’ obsession with taking pictures of literally everything and has no desire to understand it.

“Should we ask them if they want us to take a picture of the two of them?” Iman asks him.

Normally, Yusef would have thought the same thing. But he remembers the feeling of embarrassment he had before he left them by themselves. “They’ll ask if they want our help.”

As Yusef begins to get bored of waiting, Omar and Ander finish their lollygagging and make their way toward the end of the bridge.

“Took you long enough,” Yusef comments, looking briefly at Omar’s hand holding Ander’s and telling himself that there is no reason for him to be surprised at this, they’ve been together for a decade.

“You didn’t have to wait.” Ander’s voice is earnest when he says this. “We would have found you guys eventually.”

Yusef shakes his head as he begins walking down the road, toward the direction that Iman tells him the other children walked. Sometimes, that boy’s honest tone and wide eyes annoy Yusef. Omar has told him several times that Ander doesn’t really know how to pretend to be polite. He’s only polite when he wants to be. Yusef is not sure how much he believes this. When Yusef and Iman had first met the boy, he’d been very distant. He had never spoken unless addressed and rarely smiled in Yusef’s presence. As time went on and he began to become more and more comfortable--around Iman, if not Yusef--his attitude changed. After a decade, he laughs freely in front of both Iman and Yusef and holds Omar’s hand without glancing around nervously first.

The thing is, there’s an underlying nervousness to every single one of Ander’s actions, even now. Yusef thinks that after ten years, Ander is still waiting for him to get angry about something Ander does or says. He thinks that Ander believes Yusef to be one wrong word away from yelling and disowning Omar, and naming Ander as the culprit.

It’s this unspoken fear, or at least, Yusef’s perception of it, that makes him a little annoyed around Ander. He’s gotten used to everything else.

Iman says, pressing Ander’s shoulder gently. “We wanted to wait for you.”

Iman likes that boy too much, Yusef thinks, perpetually confused by her fondness for him. The fact that Iman likes Ander doesn’t actually bother Yusef at all, it amuses him. He holds out hope that one day, Iman will explain to him why she showers so much affection on the boy.

“Well, thank you.” Ander responds. “We appreciate it.”

Yusef hears Omar hum in response.

They walk, and Iman, too comfortable with Ander’s presence and entirely too willing to spoil the child, begins talking. “It’s truly beautiful out here.”

Omar chuckles. “It’s also hot and humid. I thought Umbria meant shadow, where are the clouds?”

His tone of voice makes both Iman and Ander laugh, and Yusef smiles despite himself.

“Guzman would say that Italy is just humid in general and it’s summer,” Ander says. “Everywhere is hot.”

“And the earth is on fire.”

“That too.” Yusef hears Ander laughing. “Do you have a problem with the heat?”

“I have a problem with your white ass being in the sun for too long. Why is your hand so hot?”

Yusef turns sharply to his side to reprimand Omar for swearing but Iman is faster.

“Omar, please,” Iman hisses, heavy reprimand apparent both in her gaze and her eyes.

Ignoring his parents’ dismay, Omar continues talking to his husband. “Drink some water.”

“I don’t need to drink water right now,” Yusef hears Ander say as he turns his gaze back to the sidewalk. “Anyway what exactly are Italians, if not also white?”

Omar apparently has no response to this.

Gradually, as they find their way to the top of the cliff, Yusef notices Guzman and May’s husband standing around a particular bench. When he gets closer, Yusef sees that Nadia and May are sitting on it, May’s head resting on Nadia’s shoulder.

Yusef’s heart skips a beat. “What’s wrong?” He quickens his steps.

Nadia and May look up simultaneously. “Nothing,” Nadia says quickly. “We were just waiting for you,” she continues as Omar, Ander and Iman catch up to Yusef.

“The walk tired you out?” Yusef asks.

His daughters nod.

They walk for five more minutes before they are in the city of Spoleto again.

Guzman heads them toward the museum. “Here it is.” He leads them through the gate and into the building to buy tickets.  
As they leave the ticket office and gift shop to enter the museum, Yusef notices that the museum is, as Guzman had mentioned before, a fortress.

“What is it called again?” He stops Nadia as she passes by him in the big courtyard.

“Guzman?” Nadia calls Guzman over.

“Rocca Albornoziana,” Guzman says. “It was a medieval fort, now it’s an art museum.”

Yusef refrains from telling Guzman and Nadia that his idea of a good time is not walking around an old fort, because he does not want to dampen Nadia’s mood. Either way, he had agreed to whatever this was yesterday, and he can’t complain now.

“What kind of art?” he asks.

“The tour guide said art from all eras,” Guzman answers. “It also said Lucrezia Borgia used to live here.”

“Did she?” Nadia asks Guzman, voice alive with interest, and Yusef decides to follow Guzman and Nadia as they make their way from room to room.

“She did,” Guzman answers, unhelpfully leaving out who Lucrezia Borgia was. “Lots of famous renaissance people apparently graced these halls.”

After a room full of mosaics, Yusef gets bored of Nadia and Guzman’s very slow appreciation of the museum and makes his way back to the main courtyard. He wonders where Iman has gone. Looking around and seeing no sign of her, Yusef decides to try the upper floor.

There’s a bit of wind blowing in from the open windows and the upper floor seems less museum-like and more…. castle-like, but there’s no sign of Iman up here either.

Yusef walks around the rooms anyways, enjoying the cool wind on this hot day and looking out a window here and there, at the Umbrian countryside at one time, the city of Spoleto at another. Yusef is enjoying the quiet of the antique rooms, filled with old looking furniture and art on the walls.

He has wandered in and out of several rooms of the upper floor without seeing a soul, when he hears Omar’s voice. As he rounds a small hallway into the next room, he sees Omar and Ander walking at a leisurely pace several feet in front of him, far enough away that unless they turn they won’t notice his presence.

“It’s so fucking hot.” Ander’s voice is free of the hesitance it generally has around Yusef and Iman. Yusef notices this with some chagrain, but doesn’t make a move to make his presence known. “So fucking hot and the wind is _not helping.”_

“Don’t be a _drama queen_ ,” Omar says and it’s probably an inside joke because Ander pushes at his shoulder, huffing. Omar traps Ander’s hand and wraps Ander’s arms around his own. They stop walking for just a moment and Yusef is presented with the fear that he must now either tell them he’s here or watch them kiss. Fortunately, before either of those scenarios happen, Ander pushes at Omar’s shoulders.

“Get _away_ from me, goddamn,” he says, though laughing. “It’s hot, Omar!”

This time Omar lets him go. “Don’t swear,” he says.

Ander flips him off, which leads to Omar laughing a bit harder. He grabs at Ander’s hand as Yusef begins to feel uncomfortable, realizing that for the second time that day, he has overstayed and taken part in a moment not intended for him.

As Yusef turns away, deciding to go back the way that he came and try the first floor again, he hears Omar say, “Your hand really _is_ hot. How much water have you drunk today?”

Finally, Yusef finds Iman admiring a sarcophagus with May and her husband in the basement of the museum.

“Look at this tomb, Yusef,” Iman says, pointing toward a white sarcophagus and pulling Yusef to herself.

Yusef spends the rest of his time with Iman, May and her husband. He’s not sure how much time they waste in the museum, but they make their way through every floor before finding Nadia and Guzman in the courtyard.

“Time to head into the city?” Guzman asks gamely when he notices Yusef and Iman.

“I am hungry,” May’s husband says. “Shall we have a,” he stops and checks his watch, “an early dinner?”

Yusef checks his own watch. It’s nearly five o’clock.

“We can get some gelato before going to see a show?” Guzman suggests.

No one disagrees with this sentiment.

“Are we ready to go?” May’s husband asks.

“Not everyone is here,” Guzman says at the same time as Iman asks, “Where’s Omar?”

Nadia calls Omar and tells him everyone is ready to go.

“We only saw the upper floor,” Omar says when he and Ander join the group. “It was nice.”

“You didn’t see the mosaics?” Nadia asks, eyes wide. “Or the carvings downstairs?”

“Or the paintings?” Guzman asks.

Yusef watches as Omar shakes his head. “No, we spent the whole time upstairs where it was nice and windy.”

Because Ander was hot, Yusef thinks. Of course Omar would do whatever that boy asked of him. Omar doesn’t look put off by having had to spend the whole museum visit upstairs, however. He looks fine.

Probably, Yusef thinks, Omar cares about historical art just as much as Yusef does, which is very little.

“You missed so much,” Nadia, on the other hand, is upset _for_ Omar’s sake.

Omar shrugs. “Aren’t we seeing some more old things tomorrow?”

“Yes.” Guzman enthusiastically answers him. “The Roman house and the Roman theatre, there’s another museum…”

Yusef stops paying attention.

It’s been, he thinks as they walk outside the museum, a perfect afternoon. He spent it with all three of his children, one of whom he’d given up hope of ever seeing. The walk over the old bridge had been beautiful and fairly easy, even for someone like Yusef, and the museum fort had been relaxing.

He takes his wife’s hand and places it on his arm, smiling down at her as they exit the museum. Really, there is nothing to complain about as far as today is concerned.

Then, a few feet in front of him, Ander collapses.

**Nadia**

Nadia is not sure if there has ever been a time when she has been more glad that Guzman is with her than right this moment.

She watches Ander collapse as if in slow motion. Feelings run through her, too quickly to hold onto: shock, worry, fear. She sees Omar watching as Ander falls, eyes wide in horror. What ends up saving Ander from hitting his head on the cobblestone street is Guzman’s quick thinking. Guzman rushes forward, catching Ander’s falling form and lowering him gently to the ground.

Her heart is beating in her throat as she realizes that Ander is not moving or responding to Guzman’s pleas.

He’s unconscious.

Nadia resists the urge to scream.

Instead, she turns to Omar, wanting to say something, anything, to alleviate his worries and her own. But Omar’s looking down at Ander’s still form, his mouth shut tightly and his eyes still wide, completely unaware of anyone except Ander. Omar will not respond to Nadia’s platitude right now, he will be completely unable to process anything Nadia says to him.

“I’m going to call an ambulance,” Nadia says to Guzman. After his readiness to catch Ander’s falling form, Guzman looks almost as lost as Omar does. He acknowledges what Nadia said with a nod of his head, but doesn’t look away from Ander.

Nadia takes out her phone and calls the emergency services. As she gives the operator their location, Nadia looks for the rest of her family. Her parents are standing to one side, Yusef looking concerned and Iman looking scared. Nadia’s gaze then lands on her sister and Jose Luis. They seem a bit worried, though nowhere near as concerned as her father looks.

After a minute, Ander begins to stir, moving his head and opening his eyes. Omar drops down by his side immediately, and takes his hand.

“Hey,” Omar says softly. “Hey, Ander?”

Ander mumbles something and Omar looks over at Guzman. Her brother and husband, at a loss, stare at each other wordlessly. Nadia knows that they both care about Ander a lot, probably more so than anyone else in the world, excluding Ander’s mother. She thinks that neither should be trusted to act rationally in this situation.

Kneeling down, she puts a hand on Ander’s forehead. He’s burning up. She looks up toward her mother and father, and asks them for some water.

Yusef hands her his water bottle wordlessly.

Nadia cups Ander’s face and speaks to him. “Ander, can you hear me?”

He whispers something that Nadia takes as yes even though she can’t understand him. She’s trying to look on the bright side. Not only is Ander conscious after having collapsed, he’s aware enough to know he’s being spoken to.

“I need you to drink some water, ok?” Nadia holds the water bottle to Ander’s lip, but he seems to be too weak to raise his head. Nadia begins to ask Omar for help, thinks better of it and looks at Guzman instead.

“Raise his head, please.”

Guzman does as he was asked. Nadia manages to get Ander to drink what is left of the water before the paramedics arrive.

There’s some chaos at their arrival. Mainly the causes are Omar and Guzman, who are both unwilling to leave Ander’s side for long enough that the paramedics can check on him. Nadia drags them away, telling Guzman, who looks ready to protest, that the paramedics will be able to help Ander more than he or Omar can right now.

This shuts Guzman up. Nadia leaves him and turns to deal with Omar. He’s looking not at her, but at the paramedics who are fussing about Ander.

“He fainted.” It’s the first thing he’s said--if one ignores his babbling at Ander--since Ander fainted.

“Yeah,” Nadia says in the most comforting voice she can muster. “People faint all the time.”

“People with leukemia faint,” Omar responds and well...

That’s really what this is about.

Omar’s complete shutdown, Guzman’s irrationality and inability to think clearly, the fear on Nadia’s mother’s face, the concern in her father’s eyes.

Nadia closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She doesn’t want Omar to think that she’s downplaying his worries. Hell, she’s worried too. She’s worried a lot. But there’s no point in jumping to the worst conclusion.

“Omar,” she says once she’s opened her eyes. She takes him by the shoulders so he has to look at her. “This is not that, it can’t be.” She continues, forcing her voice to be strong and convincing, trying to reassure both Omar and herself.

Before Omar has a chance to respond, the paramedics approach Nadia, Omar and Guzman. They ask for Ander’s next of kin, and Nadia has to push Omar forward because Omar is still absolutely useless. “Him,” Nadia says to the head paramedic. “He’s Ander’s husband.”

The paramedic nods and tells Omar he can ride with them in the ambulance. “Bring someone with you if you’d like,” he says to Omar before writing down the address of the hospital on a piece of paper and handing it over to Nadia.

“Do you have any idea what’s wrong with him?” Nadia asks as she accepts the piece of paper.

“Probably heat exhaustion, he’s burning up,” the paramedic answers. “Have you all been out in the heat for long?”

Nadia nods, then opens her mouth to tell the paramedic about Ander’s past leukemia, but the paramedic holds up his hand to silence her. “It’s best if we left now, for the patient.” Turning toward Omar, he asks. “Have you decided who to take with you on the ambulance?”

Wordlessly, Guzman walks to stand by Omar’s side.

When they’re gone, Nadia is confronted with the fact that she’s the one who has to make decisions now.

Her parents will want to take a cab to the hospital. She’s not sure what Jose Luis and May’s reaction is going to be to all of this.

She turns toward May and Jose Luis first, since they’re the ones she’s unsure of. “I’m sorry for all of this,” she says to them. “If you want to head back to your hotel, we can meet up with you once this whole thing is over.” Nadia brings a hand to her hair, resisting the urge to pull. Now that she knows Ander is in good hands, the shock of his fainting episode is hitting her with the force of a strong wave. “Tomorrow maybe? We have to go to the hospital right now.”

“Do you?” Jose Luis asks. He and May walk over to join Iman, Yusef and Nadia. “He’s got Omar and Guzman with him, does he need everyone else to go as well?”

“Yes,” Nadia says, too quick, too loud. She closes her eyes and breathes, in and out. She didn’t mean to sound harsh with her sister’s husband, especially since May and Jose Luis know nothing about Ander’s health complications. However, her outburst seems to have made Jose Luis hesitant. When she opens her eyes, Nadia notices that Jose Luis is looking at her warily now.

Nadia swallows before she says anything else. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound harsh or… dismissive,” she directs this toward Jose Luis but also May. “It’s just that I’m very worried about Ander, and I think it would be better for us,” Nadia stops and gestures toward her mother and father, whose faces are drawn up and emotionless. “To be with Omar and Ander right now.”

Jose Luis opens his mouth, presumably to argue further, but May silences him. She steps forward and takes both Nadia’s hands in her own, squeezing them gently. “That’s ok, Nadia,” she says. “Go to the hospital, we’ll see you when everything is settled.”

Nadia nods gratefully at her and leans forward to give her a hug. “I really am sorry, but we do _have to go._ ”

This time, Jose Luis speaks before May has a chance to stop him. “All of you?”

Nadia nods. Closing her eyes again, resisting the urge to bring a hand to her forehead. She wonders how Guzman and Omar are holding up without her. She wonders if Ander has gained his consciousness fully, if the paramedic was right and the fainting was a result of the heat. Nadia bites her lip and at the thought of it being something else, she feels a lump in her throat.

“Why though?” Jose Luis apparently has not noticed Nadia’s struggle. When Nadia opens her eyes, May is eyeing him unhappily.

“Because,” Nadia tries to keep her voice sanguine, but before she has the chance to continue, her mother interrupts her.

“Can we do this later?” She asks, sounding just as upset as Nadia feels. There are times when Nadia feels a prickle of resentment at her mother’s love for Ander. She wishes her mother cared about Guzman the same way that she cares about him. It does bother her once in a while, despite the fact that she knows Ander to be a more endearing person than Guzman in general. Still, right now, Nadia is glad that her mother feels just as impatient to be on their way. “We can talk about this later, after we hear what the doctor has to say.”

Next to Iman, Nadia watches her father roll his eyes and sigh in frustration. “For god’s sake, this is not really that hard. We’re all collectively very worried because the boy--”

“Dad,” Nadia stops him. “It’s not our secret to share.”

“Is it a secret?” Yusef asks.

Nadia nods. “Kind of.” To May and Jose Luis she says. “Look, we’ll see each other soon ok?” without waiting for them to respond, Nadia takes out her phone and orders a cab.

As they wait the three minutes it takes the cab to arrive, Nadia sees her sister take Jose Luis aside and talk to him in a hushed tone. They seem to be disagreeing about something, but when they finally separate, Jose Luis looks resigned. Nadia watches as her sister hugs him, then kisses him on the cheek, then says a quick goodbye. Then, May turns around and walks to where Nadia and her parents are waiting for the cab.

“I want to come with you,” she says.

Overwhelmed both by worry and by gratefulness at her sister’s action, Nadia asks. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” May is nodding. “Family sticks together, right?”

Nadia hugs her in response.

May takes Nadia’s hand in the cab and squeezes it, when Nadia looks over, she smiles reassuringly. “You’re doing great,” May whispers, quietly enough that Nadia is the only person who can hear her.

A nurse gives Nadia the number to the room where they’ve put Ander once they reach the hospital, and guides her in the direction of the room after Nadia stands in front of her looking lost.

The first thing Nadia notices once they walk inside is that Ander is now fully awake. The second thing she notices is that Omar is sitting right next to him and that Ander looks pissed. The third thing she notices is Guzman pacing back and forth.

Guzman stops, looking up as the nurse, Nadia and the rest of the family enter the room. Nadia sees his features change from annoyed to relieved as he registers her arrival.

“Thank god,” he says walking towards her and putting his head on her shoulder. “I’m about to lose it.”

Nadia pats his back. The nurse says her goodbye and leaves, and from the corner of her eyes, Nadia sees her father and sister take two of the seats by the wall and her mother sit beside Omar.

Nadia directs her attention back to Guzman. “What happened?” She asks him softly.

Guzman raises his head and looks at Nadia as he answers. “Someone is being very unreasonable.”

“Yeah,” Ander says to Guzman’s back. “You and,” he turns to Omar, “you.”

It’s been a long time since Nadia has seen Ander actually angry. He’s always so easygoing that she forgets he can be a stubborn bastard when things don’t go his way.

“It’s not unreasonable,” Guzman says, turning to face Ander, “to ask for some blood work to be done.”

“She said it was heat exhaustion!” Ander responds, looking at Guzman again. “Literally I’ve been feeling hot all day. And I don’t think I drank any water… like at all.”

Nadia notices Guzman’s hands close into tight fists.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he says again, slowly this time.

Ander rubs his forehead with his hand. “It’s a waste of time.”

“It really is not!”

Nadia gathers from this exchange that the doctor ruled Ander’s fainting episode a result of heat exhaustion, a decree that did little to alleviate Guzman’s--and Omar’s probably--fears. She thinks that Guzman and Omar then insisted on blood work being done just in case, which must be the source of Ander’s ire. She places a hand on Guzman’s chest.

“Hey,” she says as he looks down at her. “Has the doctor already taken a blood sample?”

Guzman nods.

“Then there’s no point arguing about this.”

Guzman’s glance bounces to Ander and back to Nadia. He doesn’t look convinced and so Nadia thinks it’s better to separate him from Ander right now. “May told me she really wanted coffee,” Nadia looks at her sister, who perks up at the mention of her name.

She understands what Nadia needs immediately. “Yeah,” she says, standing up. “It’s been so long since I had anything to drink.”

Nadia presses Guzman’s arm lightly. “Will you take my dad and May to the hospital cafe to get some coffee please?”

Guzman looks ready to argue, his glance navigating its way back to Ander again.

“Please,” Nadia presses.

Guzman sighs and nods, then motions for May and Yusef to follow him to the cafe.

When they’ve left, Nadia drags one of the unused chairs toward Ander’s bed, sitting directly across from Omar.

She hears Ander huff and looks up to see him settling back into the hospital bed.

“Ander.” Omar’s voice is quiet, barely there. He’s looking down at his hands. 

Ander turns to him again. “What?” he asks. Now that Guzman, the recipient of Ander’s anger has left, Nadia thinks that the anger itself will be directed at Omar, and Nadia is tired.

The last hour has been exhausting. Watching someone she loves faint, then having to take care of the situation because no one else had the emotional capability at that moment to do so, then the clear display of stubbornness between Ander and Guzman.

Nadia has had enough.

“You’re being a goddamn baby,” she says, ignoring her mother’s sharp look at her word choices. “You’re not a teenager anymore, Ander, hey,” she puts her hands on the side of the hospital bed. “Look at me. You’re not a teenager anymore, you have to understand why we would want the blood work done.”

She includes herself in the we because if she had been here, she would have insisted on blood work being done as well.

“Are you seriously going to sit here and be mad at Guzman and Omar for being worried about you?” Nadia continues. “They love you, we love you. We’re scared, Ander,” she says. “You have no idea how scared we all were when you just collapsed.”

With a “tsk” Ander looks away from Nadia.

“Put yourself in Omar’s place,” Nadia continues. “What if he’d had leukemia when he was eighteen, one of the symptoms of which is fainting. How would _you_ react if you saw Omar go through all of that bullshit once, and then you saw him fainting?”

Ander doesn’t answer.

“Or if it had been Guzman? Wouldn’t you have insisted they get checked for the thing that nearly killed them once?”

Ander closes his eyes, swallowing. When he opens them again, he extends his hand toward Omar. Omar takes it immediately.

“Ander,” he says softly again.

Ander shakes his head at Omar, then looks at Nadia. “Ok,” he says. “Ok, you’re right. It’s not a big deal.”

“Ander really,” Nadia stops, she needs to gather her thoughts. She looks at Omar, but he’s sitting with his gaze fixed on his and Ander’s joined hands. “Really, it’s not that far fetched that we freaked out.”

Ander looks over at Omar. “Hey,” he says, getting Omar’s attention. “I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate the apology,” Omar answers, smiling a bit for the first time since Nadia arrived. “But maybe say something to Guzman when he gets back too. I’m glad you can see _why_ we were worried.”

“It really is nothing,” Ander reassures Omar.

“ _Inshallah,”_ Nadia’s mother says from Omar’s side. Nadia watches her lean forward and look at Ander. “But it will be better once we know for sure, won’t it, son?”

Ander, smiling at her term of endearment, nods.

“Thanks for coming, Nadia,” Omar says. “I don’t know how long the disagreement would have lasted without you here.”

Nadia shakes her head, though the comment pleases her. “You would be lost without me.”

This makes Omar and Ander laugh, and Nadia feels a bit better seeing that.

“What did the doctor say, by the way?” She asks.

“Heat exhaustion,” Omar answers. “They brought down his temperature and he was feeling a bit better. Although they did say he’ll probably sleep for a long time after we get home.”

“And you’re free to be discharged?”

“I was,” Ander responds. “And then some people had to share my medical history with the doctor.”

Nadia acknowledges this with a nod.

“When the doctor found out I had leukemia at one point, she was like oh yes blood work for sure, you can’t go until we check your blood for unusual activity and now I have to stay here until _that’s_ over.”

“Careful,” Nadia says, laughing. “You’re starting to sound salty again.”

“Heated,” Omar adds.

“You’re right,” Ander responds. “Wouldn’t want to pass out from heat exhaustion twice in one day.”

This time, even Nadia’s mom laughs.

“Hey,” Nadia says hesitantly after Ander stops laughing. “I actually need to ask you a semi important question.”

She’d thought about this in the cab, trying to figure out how to get her sister away from Ander long enough so that she could ask his permission. “May and her husband were very confused by the way we acted after you fainted.”

“Mostly it was the husband,” Nadia’s mom cuts in, her eyes narrowed. Nadia can see the seed of dislike being sown in her mother’s heart. She takes a moment to marvel at how much her mother cares for Ander, then shakes herself out of it.

“Yes mostly the husband, May was a lot more understanding. I think that’s why she offered to come with us to the hospital.”

“You wanna tell her I had leukemia?” Ander asks.

“If that’s ok with you,” Nadia answers. “It would alleviate their annoyance at all of us freaking out over heat exhaustion.”

“If it is that,” Omar quips.

“It is,” Iman says, voice firm. “Of course it is.”

“She’ll be even more curious to know what the fight was about,” Nadia continues. “But I’ll only tell her if you’re comfortable with that.”

Ander doesn’t answer for some time, looking away from Nadia, thinking. When he turns back to her, he looks resigned.

“Yeah, just tell her, there’s no point in letting her be confused.”

“Thank you,” Nadia says to him. “I really appreciate it.”

Ander shrugs. “It’s really not a big deal.”

Next to him, Omar exhales, shaking his head. “Yeah, ok.”

Before Ander has a chance to respond, the door to the room opens and May, Guzman and Nadia’s father enter.

Nadia gets up, pats Guzman on the shoulder, and turns to May. “Can I talk with you outside?”

When they’re in the hallway, making their way toward the exit, May turns to Nadia. “Are you going to tell me why everyone collectively lost their shit at Omar’s husband fainting?”

Nadia smiles. “Did we lose our shit?”

“You all absolutely did.” May nods. “Even you. You were a little more aware, but you were definitely losing it. Omar was catatonic basically.”

“He was not,” Nadia argues, although she understands that May has a point. “He was walking…”

“Yeah ok, he was walking around, but he was basically unresponsive,” May throws back.

Nadia has no comeback for that, so she doesn’t say anything. She stays quiet until she and May have exited the hospital and found a bench outside.

When they’re settled, Nadia turns toward her older sister. “I’m just going to come out and say it,” she begins. “Ander had leukemia when he was eighteen. He almost died.”

May’s mouth opens in shock, but she stays quiet.

“It was hard for… all of us. Guzman has known him since they were kids. Omar was living at his house at the time. One day, because of the chemo, Omar had to shave Ander’s head and Ander… well you’ve met him. He didn’t pretend that everything was ok, but he was very stubborn about needing help. We all had to watch him get sicker, lose his hair, almost die, and none of us…” overwhelmed with emotion, Nadia stops and closes her eyes. 

She feels May’s fingers clasp her own and turns her hand palm up so that May can squeeze it.

“None of us could do anything about it,” Nadia continues after taking a deep breath. She tries to ignore the fact that her voice keeps breaking. “And it was so hard, and we all understood like,” Nadia has to stop again to swallow. She looks down at her hand being held by her sister’s. “It was Ander who was sick. But god it was like, we had to just sit by and watch this person who was important to all of us die.”

Nadia doesn’t know that there are tears in her eyes until May unclasps their hands and wipes at her face with her own fingers. “I understand,” she says. “I can’t imagine how horrible that must have been for you.”

“It was worse for Omar,” Nadia says. “He was the one who went with Ander to the chemo, he was the one that saw first hand how Ander was getting worse. It really took a toll on him.”

“Of course.”

Nadia looks away from May for a moment. She looks at the horizon, where the sun is headed. Nadia is surprised the sun is still out. She feels like so much time has passed, it should be dark right now.

But really no more than two hours must have passed since Ander collapsed.

“Guzman went with him to chemo too,” Nadia says looking back at her sister. “Ander is his closest friend. When Ander fainted this afternoon, I was freaked out but I couldn’t imagine how he and Omar were feeling.”

“And you,” May adds kindly. “I’m sure it was hard for you and mom and dad as well. I can see you all care about him.”

Nadia laughs at this. “Of course,” she says. “He’s a good boy, a little bit of a stubborn dumbass, but a good boy. I didn’t really want to admit how freaked out I was, because you know, Omar and Guzman were more scared.”

“Your feelings are still valid, Nadia,” May says.

Nadia closes her yes, tilting her face toward the evening sun so she can see the light behind her eyelids. “He’s like my brother,” she says finally. “He’s family.”

“I can see,” May adds, the tone of her voice makes Nadia open her eyes and look over at her. “I can see that you love him Nadia. I can see that mom and dad do as well. Though dad hides it very well. They love him, they seem to love your husband too…” May trails off.

“What is it?” Nadia turns toward her.

“It’s crazy to me, it’s hard for me to reconcile it in my head,” May says to her own knees. “They love your Christian husband, they love Omar’s _male spouse_. I just… missed so much in the years I’ve been gone.”

Nadia feels a pang in her heart as she hears May speak. She’d missed her sister so much, had worried about her constantly, had been so excited to see her again finally, that she had forgotten how much her life has changed since May left.

“I just think,” May continues. “If I had stayed, would they have lightened up on me as well?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Nadia answers. “It took a lot of pain and suffering for Mom and Dad to get to this point. If you had stayed and they had suffered less, maybe they wouldn’t have been as open to change.” Nadia tries to keep her voice kind, but she can see that her words hurt her sister. “You’re here now though, and we’re so glad that you are!”

“I’ve missed so much.” May looks at Nadia. “So much of you and Omar’s life. Both your weddings…”

Nadia puts her palm on her sister’s cheek, smiling. “Don’t miss any more then.”

May smiles too. “I’ll try not to.”

“Shall we go back inside and see if Guzman has throttled Ander yet?” Nadia asks, standing up.

“Let’s.”

Inside they learn that Ander’s test results are in.

“No irregular white blood cell count,” he says to Nadia smugly.

Nadia brings her hand to her mouth to cover the relieved laughter that bubbles up as Guzman rolls his eyes.

“Aren’t you glad for knowing though, asshole?” Guzman asks.

Next to him, Ander says reluctantly. “I guess.”

“Boy has some brains,” Nadia’s father says with a soft smile.

“Are we free to go?”

“You are, yes,” Ander says to her. “Go home and have some dinner. The doctor wants me to stay for one last check up, but you guys can go.”

Now that she thinks about it, Nadia is very tired. She turns a questioning glance to Guzman.

“Is Omar staying?” Guzman asks.

“Is that a real question?” Omar answers.

They say their goodbyes, each of them, even Nadia’s father, giving Ander a hug. When it’s Nadia’s turn to hug Ander goodbye, she holds on to him for a second longer than everyone else. “I’m really glad you’re ok,” She says softly into his ear.

“Me too,” Ander responds.

Nadia, Guzman, her parents and sister leave.

**Omar**

Omar is walking out of the museum, ignoring Guzman as he prattles on about Roman things, when he feels Ander’s hand go limp in his. He watches, horrified and unable to move, as Ander collapses toward the ground.

The next hour is a blur.

Omar is technically aware that Ander comes to about a minute after passing out, he’s aware even that Nadia calls the ambulance, but it’s like his brain is in a fog, like the events are happening not to him, but to someone else and Omar is watching them from the outside.

“He fainted,” he manages to say to Nadia as the paramedics load Ander in the ambulance. “People with leukemia faint.”

Nadia is saying something vaguely reassuring to him. Omar is distantly aware of this, but for the life of him, he can’t understand what she’s saying.

The next moment, he’s sitting by Ander’s side in the ambulance. The paramedics are talking in Italian as they work. Once in a while they try to include Omar and Guzman in the conversation by telling them exactly what is happening in English and Italian mixed with some Spanish words. Omar can’t really pay attention. He watches Ander blink his eyes open a few times, then close them, then open them again.

_This cannot be happening._

All the way to the hospital (which Omar thinks takes a year and a half), Omar tries to convince himself that this is in fact not a recurrence of Ander’s leukemia.

He keeps repeating it over and over again in his mind, but his traitorous brain refuses to give in.

_Do you remember the last time he fainted?_

Omar shakes his head, trying to disperse his stupid thoughts.

_Do you remember when he became too weak to climb the stairs to his room?_

Omar drops his head into his hands with a sigh. He knows he’s freaking out, yet he can’t do anything about it. He has no control over his body, no control over his thoughts. He feels like a prisoner being tortured, having to endure the pain without having the ability to stop it.

Guzman places a hand, gentle, on Omar’s back, but when he looks up Guzman has no words of comfort for him.

Days, decades, centuries later, the doctor, standing by Ander’s hospital bed, tells a now fully conscious Ander that he is suffering from heat exhaustion.

She then turns to Omar, who is sitting at Ander’s bedside. “I’m glad you guys called an ambulance,” she says to him in English. “Heat exhaustion can lead to heat stroke and that’s dangerous.” She looks down at her charts. “We’re bringing down his temperature. Drink water, son,” she orders Ander, then turns back to Omar. “Was there anything else?”

Omar looks uncertainly at Guzman, then back at the doctor after he receives an encouraging nod from Guzman. “Can you do some blood work?” he asks her in English.

She looks at him, surprised, “Blood work?”

From the bed, Ander speaks up. “Why? No. There’s no need.”

“There is,” Guzman cuts in in Spanish. Omar watches him speak, his gaze fixed not at the doctor, but at Ander. “We need to make sure it _was_ just the heat exhaustion that made you faint.”

“Excuse me,” the doctor says. “Can one of you explain to me why we need to do blood work?”

Omar takes over again. “My husband was diagnosed with leukemia when he was eighteen.” He can see Ander behind the doctor, face drawing together in annoyance, but Omar continues. “He went through chemotherapy and is in remission but… One of the symptoms of leukemia--”

“Is fainting,” the doctor finishes Omar’s sentence. “I’ll order the blood work, it shouldn’t take too long.”

Apparently this is the last straw for Ander, who clears his throat loudly to get the doctor’s attention.

“Hi, yes, I’m the patient?” Ander says. “I don’t need blood work done.”

The doctor frowns, eyebrows knitting together. “In normal circumstances, I would agree. However, given your medical history, I suggest we do run the blood test, just to be safe.”

“I’ve been fine for ten years,” Ander responds, closing his eyes.

“We absolutely do need the blood work done,” Guzman says and Omar nods his agreement.

“You’re both worrying for no reason,” Ander says, though his eyes are closed and he can’t see Omar’s nod. “This is literally nothing.”

“We want to make sure it’s nothing though, son,” the doctor says to Ander. “Can I go ahead and order the blood work?”

“Yes,” Omar says at the same time that Ander says “No!”

Omar turns to look at Ander, “Why are you doing this?” He says to Ander in Spanish. “Getting some blood work done isn’t gonna hurt you.”

Ander closes his eyes again, breathing out slowly. “I don’t want to.”

“Why? Because you want to act like a child?” Guzman asks, also in Spanish.

“No,” Ander answers. “Because it’s my body, and it’s my fainting spell, and it’s my blood and I don’t want to!”

Before either Omar or Guzman can reply, the doctor speaks. “I don’t really know what your hang up is,” she says to Ander. “However, I will say this. I won’t be able to recommend you for a discharge until we take a look at your blood.”

“See, now you’ve ruined it,” Ander says to Omar and Guzman in Spanish. Then he turns to the doctor and very reluctantly agrees to have his blood taken.

Ander doesn’t say anything to Omar and Guzman until after the nurse has taken a sample of his blood. Once she’s gone, he turns the full force of his anger at the two of them.

“Why are you guys always meddling in things that have nothing to do with you?” Ander asks.

Guzman turns to look at Ander, more surprised than angry.

Omar feels the small heat of anger in his own heart at Ander’s question. After the past hour, the horror of watching Ander faint, the stress of not knowing what is wrong with him, Omar is tired. “Excuse me?” He says to Ander, his voice laced with the anger he is feeling. “It’s not our business now? You being healthy is just your goddamn business?”

When Ander looks away without saying anything, Omar feels the anger growing in his belly.

“And I’m what? Supposed to not care that you fainted? That I literally saw your unconscious body collapse to the ground? That you might be sick?” _Again,_ Omar thinks but doesn’t say. “For god’s sake Ander, you’re not eighteen anymore. You know better than this.”

Guzman begins pacing, presumably choosing to rage quietly. Ander continues to look away from Omar, and before Omar has a chance to say anything else, Omar’s family arrives. Nadia, with a proficiency that neither Omar nor Guzman are capable of, takes over the situation.

When the doctor finally comes in and tells them that there is nothing wrong with Ander’s blood, Omar feels like he has taken his first true breath in hours.

However, the doctor wants to check up on Ander one last time before she releases him, and Ander tells Omar’s parents that there’s no point in anyone else staying. “You guys go home and have some dinner,” Ander says. “We’ll be fine here.”

It’s been over a decade, several years of which Omar has spent married to Ander, yet when he hears the _we_ he feels a sense of pride.

Then everyone is gone and Omar is alone in the room with Ander for the first time since he collapsed.

“Hey,” Ander says. Omar looks over to see him scooting to one side of the bed and patting the empty space.

Omar stretches out on the bed wordlessly.

“What a day,” Ander says, voice a bit ironic.

Omar turns onto his back, stretching one arm so that Ander can put his head on it.

“That’s an understatement,” Omar responds after Ander has settled on his arm. “I did take some good pictures of you on the bridge.”

Ander hums in response.

“And in the museum.”

Ander laughs. “The wind was messing up my hair.” His voice is so soft that Omar leans down to kiss his forehead, then the admittedly messed up hair. “I think fainting messed it up more.”

“Dick,” Omar says without any chagrin, then, “I’m glad it was nothing, even though you made a whole fuss.”

Ander scrunches his face up in annoyance. “I’m glad it was nothing even though _you_ made a whole fuss.”

The entrance of the doctor stops Omar from responding. She makes Ander sit up, takes his temperature, looks into his eyes, then into his ears. Standard health check.

She discharges him after that.

Ander nods off in the taxi ride back to the villa, head falling on Omar’s shoulder. Omar grabs his hand, hoping that the taxi doesn’t jostle Ander too much. Then as carefully as he can, he places his face into Ander’s hair so he can kiss Ander’s curls.

He stays there, inhaling the scent of the hospital and the hot day and Ander’s conditioner, and closes his eyes. Omar doesn’t believe in any deities. He’s never been a particularly religious person, but if he had been, being gay would have cured him of it. Still he’s grateful, _so, so grateful._ Grateful to an extent that even he cannot explain, that Ander is ok.

Unbidden, the image of a sick Ander comes to Omar’s mind. He can see behind his eyelids an Ander who is weak, who has lost his hair, who has to go through chemotherapy again.

Omar shudders, an action that moves Ander enough to bring him back into a form of wakefulness. “Are we here?”

“No,” Omar says softly into Ander’s hair, “not yet.” He squeezes Ander’s hand. “Go back to sleep.”

Ander does.

Omar has to actively ignore his invasive thoughts on the rest of the drive. Instead, he busies himself by looking down at Ander.

Omar doesn’t like to remember the time when he wasn’t sure if Ander would survive. He doesn’t like remembering that Ander had to go through hours of chemo, that he had to miss school, that Omar had to shave his head, that the cancer had eaten away at him until he’d become a shadow of himself.

But Ander is not sick, Omar repeats to himself, he’s fine, it was just heat stroke.

Ander wakes up very briefly when they arrive at the villa. He’s not fully conscious however, and Omar has to take him up the stairs with Guzman’s help. They dump Ander on the bed and Omar takes off Ander’s shirt and shoes, then his pants.

Then he maneuvers Ander under the thin blanket.

Ander doesn’t stir during all of this.

Omar goes downstairs to tell his parents a quick goodnight and then he too collapses on the bed, the horrible day finally catching up to him.

When he turns to his side, he sees Ander looking at him with half open eyes.

Omar lifts his hand, running his fingers gently through Ander’s hair. “Did I wake you up?”

Ander shakes his head and moves closer to Omar, so that he can rest his forehead on Omar’s collarbone.

“I’m tired,” he mumbles into Omar’s chest.

“I know,” Omar responds, his voice soothing. “Go to sleep.”

Ander grunts in protest.

“What is it?” Omar asks. He moves his body down so that he is eye level with Ander. He knows Ander prefers resting his head on Omar’s chest, but he can also hear the slight unhappiness in Ander’s voice and he wants to be able to look Ander in the eyes.

“Ander?” Omar says, his mouth only a few centimeters away from Ander’s.

He can feel Ander exhaling before he speaks. “I’m sorry.”

Omar closes his eyes so that he doesn’t swear. It doesn’t work. “Fucking hell--” he says but Ander stops him.

“I’m sorry you were so scared,” Ander continues. “I know it’s not my fault, blah blah. I didn’t choose to get leukemia, I didn’t choose to faint because of the heat today--”

“If you hadn’t avoided drinking water like a dumbass.”

“I didn’t need to drink water,” Ander answers indignantly. “Well…” he stops. “I didn’t feel like I needed to.”

His words make Omar chuckle.

“Anyway I _know_ it’s not my fault,” Ander continues. “I’m not stupid.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“You know the more you interrupt me, the longer it’s going to take for my exhausted body to go to sleep.”

Omar says nothing.

“Ok can I speak now?” When Omar continues saying nothing, Ander goes on. “I didn’t choose to faint, but that doesn’t mean my fainting didn’t scare you.”

Omar closes his eyes.

“Omar?” Ander asks, inching even closer so that he can rub his nose against Omar’s.  
Omar raises his chin and kisses the tip of Ander’s nose. “I’m always gonna worry about you, idiot,” Omar answers. “And yeah, I was scared shitless, but you’re ok. Everything is fine. Tomorrow you’ll sleep all day and get even better.”

“I will.”

Omar listens to Ander’s breathing until it evens out into sleep.

\--

Omar wakes up the next morning to the sound of birds singing outside his window.

The first thing he does is check on Ander, who is sleeping. The doctor had said that exhaustion from the heat would make Ander sleep for most of the day.

Still, not wanting to risk waking him up, Omar gets out of bed as gently as he can.

Downstairs, he finds his mother brewing coffee.

“No tea this morning?” Omar asks her, sitting down.

She turns around, smiling at him. “Not this morning,” she replies. “Everything ok?”

Omar nods, watching her busy herself with mugs and then getting milk out of the fridge.

“Is Ander ok?” his mother asks.

“Yeah.” Omar thinks about this for a moment. To his eyes, Ander’s sleeping form did seem ok. “He’s sleeping.”

His mother, finished with two mugs of coffee, takes a seat on the dining table besides Omar.

“Thank god,” she says, putting one mug in front of Omar. “I’m glad. I don’t know what we would have done if it was something serious.”

Not wanting to answer her, and decidedly avoiding eye contact, Omar picks up his coffee cup and takes a sip.

“Omar,” she says after a moment. He chances a glance at her. “Are _you_ ok?”

Omar shrugs his shoulders. “I’m ok.”

“Omar,” she says again, and her tone of voice is commanding enough that he puts down his mug. She extends her hand, palm up, offering it to him. Slowly, Omar puts his hand in her palm.

She squeezes it, placing her free hand on top of the one she’s holding.

“Son,” she says. “I felt my heart stop when I saw that boy falling.”

Omar closes his eyes. He swallows. His mother squeezes his hand once more.

“It’s ok if you’re not ok,” she says. “It’s ok to admit that.”

Omar opens his eyes and finds that his mother’s gaze is already on his. “You know when someone breaks their bones, or they get a really horrible physical injury and they don’t pass out but they go in shock?”

His mother nods.

“And afterwards they don’t remember what happened? That’s how I feel,” Omar continues. “I remember feeling Ander’s hand go limp in mine, and then I remember little to nothing until the hospital. Everything is a blur.”

“Son,” she says kindly, stroking his hand.

“The worst thing was that while we waited for his results, I had no idea whether this was just a one time thing or leukemia.”

Nodding, Omar’s mother scoots her seat closer to his, letting go of Omar’s hand so she can cup his cheek. “It wasn’t leukemia,” she says to him. Her thumb gently rubs against his cheek and Omar closes his eyes.

He gives a small nod.

“But I want you to know one thing,” she says. “We were _all_ worried for him. He’s part of our family now, and seeing him looking so vulnerable hurt all of us.”

Omar opens his eyes just as his mother leans forward to kiss his forehead.

“Even your father, who grumbles about him, was worried sick. Nadia looked wild. I couldn’t hold on to a single thought, I prayed in my head all the way to the hospital.”

Omar smiles at her, close mouthed, but full of gratitude. “Thank you.”

Wordlessly, Omar’s mother pulls him into a hug.

They separate only when they hear footsteps coming down the stairs.

Trying to regain his composure, Omar touches the corners of his eyes, feeling their wetness. He looks up just as his mother stretches out her palm to wipe at his face. “Tell him, ok? Tell him how worried we all were.”

Omar nods as his father enters the kitchen. He takes a look at Omar and Iman and exhales with a chuckle. “The look on your faces,” he says, shaking his head. “Relax, the boy is fine.”

“That’s not what we were talking about,” Omar says, just to be contradictory.

“Of course you weren’t,” his father answers, in a tone of voice that clearly implies he knows Omar is full of shit. “What are we eating for breakfast?”

Sighing, Omar’s mother stands up to help her husband cook. Not wanting to just sit and watch, Omar offers to help.

Nadia and Guzman stumble into the kitchen half an hour later, when breakfast is almost done and Omar’s mother has already asked him to fetch them.

Once they’ve all sat down to eat, Omar’s mother asks, “What’s the plan for today?”

“Originally, we were planning on going to the Roman theatre and house,” Guzman answers. “Then wait until evening for one of the opera shows. But since Ander won’t be able to come today, I figured we can just hang out here and do all of that tomorrow.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Guzman,” Omar speaks up in disagreement, “but I see no reason why you guys can’t just go out without me and Ander.” There’s no question of Omar leaving Ander alone during the day to go sightseeing with everyone else. “ We’ll do something together tomorrow. Trust me, Ander is not going to complain about missing the Roman house.”

Guzman’s brows furrow. “But I want him to be there for the history things. Well, and you.”

“I don’t actually care, Guzman and neither does Ander,” Omar answers. “Just keep your original plans and we’ll all hang out tomorrow.”

Guzman looks like he’s about to argue more and Nadia looks about ready to join him. Even Omar’s mother looks hesitant at the idea of going out without Omar and Ander. 

Omar sighs. “If I tell Ander that you all cancelled your plans for him--and I _will_ tell him--he’ll be pissed at you,” Omar says, trying to talk some sense into his family. “Do you want him to sulk for the rest of this trip because he inconvenienced everyone else?” No one says anything, but no one argues either because after a decade, everyone knows that Ander will indeed sulk. “Just go, we’ll do shit together tomorrow.”

Unhappily, Guzman, Nadia and Omar’s parents leave after breakfast.

Putting the dishes away, Omar makes his way back up the stairs. He’s not sure how long Ander will be asleep, but he intends to stay by Ander’s side until Ander wakes up.

Ander is sleeping on his stomach, facing toward the open window, his face half buried in his pillow, when Omar opens the door. Omar picks up the book he’d been reading on the plane, and settles himself comfortably on the bed.

Hours pass while Ander sleeps, breathing quietly. Omar reads his book. Once in a while, a gentle wind moves the curtains to and fro, and Omar puts down his book, looks at the window and the flowers outside. When the moment passes and the curtains settle, Omar picks up his book again and continues to read.

Around noon, the weather becomes too hot and Omar gets up to turn on the portable fan in the room.

The fan moves the curtains regularly as it goes through its rounds.

Omar doesn’t mind. He finds it relaxing.

Several hours later, past five in the afternoon, Omar feels the bed moving and looks over to see Ander stir. He puts his book down and watches Ander slowly wake up.

Ander moves his head from side to side slowly, then groans as his arms come up besides his ears, his fingers stretching towards the ceiling. After he’s dropped them back down to his side, he blinks his eyes open.

“Afternoon,” Omar says softly.

Hearing his voice, Ander turns his gaze toward Omar.

“Where are we?” He asks, voice groggy.

Charmed by his half open eyes and his sleep addled-voice, Omar raises a hand and runs his fingers through Ander’s hair, dropping down to kiss his cheek. “Where do you think we are?”

Ander looks around the room, then closes his eyes, then opens them again to look at the room.

“Somewhere.”

Omar laughs at him. “We’re in our bedroom at the villa we rented, in Italy?”

Omar is watching Ander’s face, which is why he catches the moment Ander’s mind connects to the events of yesterday and he closes his eyes, this time in realization. “Oh yeah! I fainted.”

“That you did.”

“It wasn’t leukemia.”

“No,” Omar laughs. “It was the heat.”

Ander doesn’t respond for so long, that Omar thinks he’s fallen asleep again.

“I’m hungry.” Ander’s eyes are still closed, but clearly he is awake.

“Want me to bring you something to eat up here?”

Ander takes a deep breath in, then sighs out before answering. “No,” he says, his hands pressing down on the bed and lifting him up. “Let’s go down to the kitchen.”

They make sandwiches and eat them in the garden outside. At one point, a piece of mozzarella falls out of Ander’s sandwich and into the flower bed and Omar has to actually stop him from picking it up and eating it.

As recompense, Ander makes Omar make another sandwich for him.

This time, Ander gets tomato juice and seed splattered on his face. Laughing, Omar leans forward and licks it off. When he goes to pull back, Ander grabs his face with a free hand to keep him there, his nose touching Omar’s nose, their lips centimeters apart.

Omar stays there, gazing into Ander’s eyes.

His heart is beating loudly in his chest.

Ander doesn’t kiss him, doesn’t make a move forward even. He just sits there, holding Omar’s face with his hands, looking at him with intensity.

Omar can’t really take this for too long. They’re too close and the fact that they’re not kissing is making him want to jump out of his skin. Omar doesn’t _actively_ think about kissing Ander all the time, but he does think about it. It’s just something that is on the back of his mind, simmering. When moments go by and Ander still hasn’t kiss him, Omar’s toes begin to tap on the ground, and he grabs the fingers of one hand with another.

He would fidget away, but Ander is holding on to his face.

With a frustrated sigh, Omar does the only thing he can do. He leans forward, opening his mouth, and kisses Ander.

Ander responds immediately, letting go of Omar’s face to wrap his hands around Omar’s neck. After a moment, he leans forward with his whole body, half standing over Omar, kissing him.

Just as Omar is about to pull Ander onto his lap, Ander pulls away.

“What?”

Ander looks to his left, eyes unfocused. “I’m feeling like going inside the pool.” There’s a suggestive grin on his face, one that set’s Omar’s already heated body on fire.

“My parents will ritually murder us if they find out we had sex in the pool.”

Ander looks back at Omar then, a glint in his eyes. “They don’t have to find out.”

He’s right. Who knows how long his parents and siblings will be at the concert. No one has to find out that anything illicit happened in the pool.

Omar looks up at Ander with his own version of a suggestive smile, tugging on the hem of Ander’s shirt. Without letting go, Omar stands and pulls Ander’s shirt off. “Race you there?”

Looking at Omar for only a second longer, Ander turns and starts running without another word.

Omar follows.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from one of my favorite songs, mentioning one of my other favorite songs, _Calma Remix_ by Pedro Capo ft Farruko
> 
> \--  
> Buckle up folks I have so much to say about this fic. 
> 
> When I sat down to write this fic, I had no idea it would be so long. I wanted to write a future fic with Omar and Nadia’s sister following the prompts that anons gave me, but I didn’t know how it would pan out. Then I came up with the idea of telling a story mostly about Ander from everyone else’s pov and here we are.
> 
> So uh… I have been to Spoleto. Seven years ago so my memory is not that great. I swear to god I walked on that bridge but it’s been so long I legit can’t remember. Are people allowed to walk on the bridge? I don’t know. The only thing I remember about the museum is that Lucrezia Borgia stayed there and also it was very windy. Anyways I adore Spoleto. I love the town, I love the duomo, the Lippi frescoes are legit some of my favorite art, the Roman house is cool, the theater is cool, everything about Spoleto is just amazing. Umbria in general is just absolutely fantastic but Spoleto is like my favorite place in Umbria. Orvieto is hella cool too but I only spent like 3 hours there, there is no way I could write a whole fic set in that town. 
> 
> Finally I hope you enjoyed the fic. It took me a while to write and it really got out of hand. Come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://waroftheposes.tumblr.com/) and yell at me about Elite, the best show.


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